


Favorable Optics

by loveoverpride



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Scandal universe, Washington D.C.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2018-11-18 15:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 60,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveoverpride/pseuds/loveoverpride
Summary: After four years of handling the egos and reputations of Washington's finest, Olivia Pope has been called to the White House. In a matter of hours, she meets her new client -  President Fitzgerald Grant. But as lines are crossed between professional and personal, she realizes the cameras can be a double-edged sword and she's under the microscope as well.





	1. Chapter 1

“May I speak with Miss Pope?”

“This is she.”

Silence hit her ears.

“Hello?”

“Ma’am, you are now on a secure line.”

She pulled her chair closer to the desk, lifting a pen, ready to draft any notes that were given to her, becoming fully aware of the importance of this phone call.

“Thank you.”

“Ma’am, I have received word from the White House that your presence is required.”

“I don’t understand. I have not been contact---”

“The White House would like to hire you for a particular case.”

“Excuse me?”

“Miss Pope, the White House knows of your work in the political field, and your expertise could be used greatly here.”

She only had a few seconds to process what was happening. By now, she realized this was no prank call; the conversation would have ended by now. In the four years that she started her public relations firm, she had trained herself and her team to capture voices with their inflections, pulling apart intentions and endgames. Finding solutions to any outlandish scenario.

“When?”

“If you are able to come in the next two hours, that would be fantastic.”

Olivia searched through her agenda book. No pressing issues were needed at the office that she couldn't pass along to her staff. “Alright, I’ll be there. Who has put my name into consideration?”

“Mr. Cyrus Beene. I am calling from his office. Actually, ma'am, he has cleared everything so that you can start tomorrow. You will have a pass and other forms of clearance ready for you when you arrive.”

Good ol’ Cyrus, her former professor at Georgetown Law. A distant comrade and mentor of sorts. He always mentioned how if he needed her, he'd call. Years had passed and she simply left the promise in the back of her mind. Nothing like a surprise. Nothing like the present.

“We will send a car to your office. They will arrive at 1:30.”

“Thank you.”

The dial tone abruptly thumped in her ear. Olivia gave herself a moment to think. The busy thoughts running in her mind had to stop. Her office door was closed, so no one would have known what was going on anyway. Casually moving around like nothing earth-shattering had happened. Olivia walked from room to room,, giving orders to her trusted group. Then she went into her closet, finding a more suitable outfit for this meeting. Light grey blouse with dark slacks, with matching 4-inch heels, transforming into a power player. Which she was - handling the egos and reputations of Washington’s finest in the midst of their darkest hours. But this was the White House. This was the highest of highs.  This was going to be her moment.

It was time to shine.

* * *

The guard opened the door for Olivia. She took a long breath and approached the gate.

“Liv!”

“Hi, Cy.”

Kissing her on the cheek, Cyrus Beene welcomed Olivia to 1600 Pennsylvania. His gruff appearance was the same as she remembered during lecture hall and many hours of research, sitting in his office at Georgetown. But he was better dressed now, in tailor suits and combed hair. Presentable even. Such an improvement for now being Chief of Staff.  After a simple exchange of pleasantries, he informed Olivia of her visit.

“We have a problem.”

“And what’s that,” she asked as the guard handed her a visitor’s pass.

“The President and First Lady are dealing with an issue and they want to make sure that the public only receives information that they want to share.”

Olivia raised her eyebrow, giving a fast side eye to Cyrus. This was odd because she kept her ear to the ground for such details.  “Are they in trouble with the law?”

“No,” he replied, “More of a personal issue.”

“Distant relative problems?”

“No.”

it was deeper than a false claim about the First Couple’s life before moving to Washington. Tilting her head, she tried to read Cyrus. A poker face was all she received. They were in public after all. People on smoking breaks or just taking in the busy environment of Downtown. Although they didn’t know these strangers, the random individuals might know who they were.

“How long will this take?”

“No one can say,” Cyrus rushed to comment, walking towards the side door he used every morning and every night. “Our goal is to make this a seamless transition.”

The words “seamless” and “transition” were ringing. This was major. Something huge on the horizon and she was needed.

Finally, they passed through each level of clearance and she was inside. Marching down the halls of the West Wing, behind Cyrus. This was hallowed ground. Only the selected few were accepted. Seeing the offices full of employees and handpicked journalists. The inner circle. The closer they got to the Oval Office, the more stops they took. Being introduced to associates, interns, the Press Corps, and other people of importance.

“Stay calm. I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I didn’t think you were equipped,” Cyrus lowly explained as they walked side by side. “Just let him know what you can do for him and the First Lady, and everything will start nicely. I told him about your work and he’s a sensible man. Your ideas matter and your energy will be well needed in this Administration.”

They approached the desk of the secretary.

“Lauren.”

The woman promptly rose, walking past Olivia and Cyrus, and knocked on the door.

“Sir, Miss Pope is here.”

There he was. President Fitzgerald Grant the Third. A man of the People. “Grant for the People”, to be exact. The campaign slogan made to connect with potential voters. Olivia remembered reading about him and how unrelatable he was. He grew up wealthy. Going to the best schools, having the quintessential Americana look. A Navy man. Rhodes scholar. Back to California. Cyrus worked his magic, reinventing the Golden Boy and revealing his fresh look at politics to Americans. Making the issues worth noting and bringing hope. He became believable.

But from first glance, watching him from twenty feet away, that wasn’t the case. Well, not to Olivia.

He was taller than what she expected, whenever she saw him on television. Probably around 6’3. Dressed smartly in a navy blue pinstriped suit, he strutted to the middle of the floor. Confidence poured out of him as he thanked Lauren, inviting his guests inside. Following Cyrus’ lead, Olivia entered the Oval Office. The President smiled and introduced himself, as if he was a nobody.

“Fitzgerald Grant. Thank you for coming.”

Olivia extended her hand and the man in front of her shook it firmly. Their eyes met - she had been waiting for them. Always looking a person in the eye was vital, needing to know exactly where he stood.  Something was different though. There was fire in his blue eyes, but still having a hue of vulnerability. It took her breath away that a powerful man would connect with her in an instant. A different stance from the haughty politicians she had met and worked with in the past.  But she was still on guard.  Because every person had a backstory and kept secrets that could be revealed.

Quickly, she surveyed the room. The portraits, the furniture, the windows behind the Resolute desk. Everything was so put together and clean. This was an once-in-a-lifetime moment. To be standing in the Oval Office. Having the attention of the most talked about person in the city.

“It is an honor, Sir.”

“Please,” President Grant offered. As Olivia sat down, he began his spiel. “I appreciate you making time for us. Cyrus tells me that you are the best at what you do. Crisis management.”

“That is correct.”

Olivia declined his offer of an alcoholic beverage and waited for someone - either one of them - to give her the scoop. The small talk was not important; she didn't believe in trivial conversation, especially when time equated to results and money. When no one jumped in, she asked, “Mr. President, I would like to hear about what the position or project I am being considered for. Then, I can give you a definitive answer on how I can assist you.”

“Straight to the chase.” President Grant chuckled, after taking a sip of his drink.  “My wife and I are dealing with a private issue and we would like to keep the details out of the headlines and we need someone like you, to make sure our wishes are honored.”

Olivia was tired of the codewords. The third time in as many hours, being given a vague synopsis of a topic that no one could discuss. That was not acceptable.

“What exactly is it? This issue.”

Clearing his throat, the President stated, “We are going through a difficult time.”

“No disrespect, Mr. President, but all relationships go through bumps along the way,” Olivia answered, taking note of his reaction to her. - his eyebrows lifting in surprise.  “That doesn’t have to be a public matter and to bring outside assistance, seems like a waste.”

“Well, this is not something I want to get out. You see, it's not that---”

“Your marriage.”

“Pardon?”

“The private issue is the state of your marriage. It’s cold. Dead. Is that what you’re implying?”

“What did you say?”

Olivia continued with her analysis, shocking the President. “Why isn't she here? In this meeting? That's a red flag to me. You two are not on the same page. If this is a joint matter, she would be sitting right next to you. Furthermore, we would be in a different room. A place where both of you feel safe and together. This is something _you_ want resolved. Not necessarily the both of you.”

Mouth agape, President Grant shot an irritated look at Cyrus, who only returned a knowing glance. “Is that so? And why would you say that?”

“Sir, I can assure you that I did not reveal to Olivia anything,” Cyrus lifted his hand in deference.

“He didn't have to say anything,” she interjected.  “Since you announced your candidacy, since the campaign trail, you and the First Lady have barely looked at each other. Let alone talk. You're letting the cold air in. You talk at each other. But not to one another. People aren’t going to support that. You thought being elected would change their perception of how two are as a couple, disguising the visible flaws. And it didn't. That's why we're sitting in this room.”

President Grant’s appearance turned into something very cold and stoic. The well-known smile that won the hearts of the Country, disappeared; the lips that usually curled into a smirk, had flatlined. The President uncrossed his legs, shifted his weight, leaning in towards Olivia.

“And you could tell that from twenty seconds of conversation?”

Olivia placed her hands on her thighs, sitting tall. Never the one to mince words and be intimidated by a potential client - not even the leader of the free world. “I did my research on you. I watch for body language and key in on choice words. I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”

“But you haven’t accepted or declined my offer.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

President Grant returned to his signature cross-legged position, to accommodate his height. With his hands over his knee, he asked, “Tell me, Miss Pope. If you were to accept this position, what would you do to smooth all of this out?”

Keeping her cool, to-the-point tone, she answered, “I would ask you to do better.  Find ways to stay in her good graces. Make the country love you two again. It’s all about the optics. The cameras. Visuals matter. They win votes. That’s how they know who you are, by what you give them. Saying one thing is nice, but having visual proof is more.  Because right now, no one will listen to a word you say. Allow them to root for you.”

“And what if I don’t want to? Do all that you mentioned?”

Olivia finally blinked. “Then I can’t help you.”

She watched the President slightly jolt in his chair. His eyebrows lowered. She knew. Her response was too sharp, plain, and honestly a bit too honest for his liking. No patting of the back, a resounding pep talk, or “light at the end of the tunnel” speech.

“That will be all. Thank you for coming in, Miss Pope.”

Olivia was quite surprised by the immediate coldness in his voice. Just like that - she had been dismissed by the country's Commander in Chief. It stung actually. Being rejected. She had been on a winning streak for months, drawing the clients in, hook, line, and sinker.  With a polite nod, she gathered her folder and belongings. She felt his venomous glare on her skin, that wasn’t even exposed. It was that intense and almost caused her to slink back.  But she didn’t. He stood, making his way to the door that led to his residence.

Cyrus bolted from his seat, blocking the President.  “Sir. Wait. I'm sure we can come to a happy medium. Olivia is just doing her job. She knows what she’s talking about.”

Olivia assured her friend. It’s alright. No offense taken. This is how I am. I observe, search, and find what works and what doesn’t.  My approach is not compatible with everyone and that's okay. It was wonderful seeing you, Cyrus. Best of luck, Mr. President.”

With a quick smile, Olivia swung her purse straps over her shoulder, and left the room.

The Chief of Staff gave himself 10 seconds to compose himself before respectfully giving his boss a piece of his mind.

“I don’t need to deal with this,” the voice interrupted, “Fire her. Find someone else.”

Cyrus turned to the President, pulling at the thin hair he had left. “Sir!”

“I don't want her,” he stated in an excited, sharp growl. “I will not be disrespected in my office. Get rid of her.”

“I didn’t bring her to coddle you. You need to hear the truth. You know this is what we're dealing with. Your divorce will be front page news  every day for the next year. Not the Education plans you’re trying to sustain through Congress. It will not be pretty. It be messy and it will hurt like hell. Your party that had your back will disown you. This will be your legacy. If you're not going to listen to us, you need to have someone here who will fire you up. And that just happened. Did you see how emotional you were after she called you out? You need to get her back. There’s no one else in Washington who can do what you are looking for. Who is going to make you look good in the end?  Do you even want to get re-elected?”

Cyrus’ words were the ripped band-aid that weakly covered the bloody gash he received a few minutes earlier. _The truth._  President Grant lowered his gaze, crossing his arms.

“Win Olivia Pope back, Sir.”

* * *

Olivia followed the line of staffers, hoping they were returning towards the outside world.  A total waste of time, she determined.  Dropping everything, leaving her co-workers in the dark, rapidly preening for the White House --- only to be rejected because of what she knew was right. Cyrus told her that he would listen, be responsive to her advice. She moved around so much to be here and in a matter of seconds, that all changed.

_What a crock of shit._

“Miss Pope. Miss Pope!”

Hurried footsteps. The timbre of this voice was ringing. Olivia stopped and turned around. The President of the United States was back in her space. Everyone else had cleared his pathway. Her eyes widened as he stood  less than a foot away.

“Yes?”

“May I have a word?”

She followed him to a corner,  not too far away from the steady flow of traffic.

“I apologize.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, full of skepticism. “Apologize for what?”

“For speaking to you in the manner that I did and for not giving you a chance. For dismissing you.”

His voice was low and his eyes look sorrowful, but the polished apology was not sticking. Olivia gritted her teeth, becoming more furious. Being a petite woman, she was never viewed as the accomplished, iron-willed gladiator, but as soon as she spoke, any doubts of her leverage in the industry were shot down to hell. She loathed being underestimated. It fueled more fire within her soul.

“Why though? I left my business on a busy work day, dealing with traffic, as a favor to my friend. Because like you said, I am the best at what I do. I commit to my clients and I give them results.” Her voice itching to escalate, but still aware that others could hear her. “I gave you advice - great advice - and you basically fired me. Just because you don't want to hear the truth about yourself, doesn't me-”

“I agree with every word you said,” he remarked, in a hushed, breathy reply, “Every word astute.”

“What?”

“Yes.”

A simple phrase interrupted her flow of thinking. The only thing she could focus on were his eyes. Breathing seemed secondary. Watching him was necessary.

“So, you're agreeing with me and still you dismissed me?”

His intense gaze pulled out an emotion from her that caught her by surprise. He looked caught. Like he wasn’t supposed to show his bluff. She was speechless and full of disbelief. Olivia Pope always had something to say.  But now, she didn’t.

They didn't know each other; their paths had never crossed until this second and yet, they were connected.  In a strange and unusual way. They were stuck.

He moved first; closing his eyes, he stepped back. Barely expanding the little space between them, she noted.

“I am in desperate need of your help. Will you please return to my office so we can discuss further?”

She found actual words and suggested to him, “Did Cyrus convince you to bring me back?”

A faint smile appeared.

“Yes.”

Switching back to the determined personality that did not let anything or anyone distract her resolve, Olivia gave her answer.

“Let's get to work then.”


	2. Chapter 2

“ _I am in desperate need of your help.”_

When men and women called for her assistance, she had the upper hand. Looking them up and down, finding reasons why not to take on their case. She had time to decide. But when it was an impromptu meeting, she did not have the luxury of time to weed through the pros and cons of taking on a client; it put her in a tricky spot. She had to trust her gut. It never steered her wrong. At least, not yet.

Then, that moment came. The plea of surrender. When the client was ready to give her control. That was all she desired to hear.  It seemed right. A problem that guaranteed to not dissolve unless she had a hand in the mix. This was the White House; they didn't call just anybody. Only look for the best and she was the best.

“Okay,” she immediately replied, hoping to dissipate whatever awkward vibe that had resided between them. “I will make sure all of your endeavors are taken care of, and this will be the last time you'd have to worry about this situation.”

President Grant sighed with immense gratitude. “Thank you.”

When they returned to the Oval, Cyrus jumped from his seat, with pumped fists.

“Thank God.”

“Don’t worry, Cy,” she stated, with a grin. “I didn’t go too far. Let’s start over, shall we?”

Cyrus handed her a large folder. “Contract’s in there, sign by tonight. Along with your credentials. Do not lose them. At any cost.”

“Thank you.”

He flung his hand in the air, in that spastic way that wants to get rid of something or just move away from a topic. “No, thank you. We need you, Liv. We need that spark. He needs it. You're going to be that fire.”

Rolling her eyes, Olivia claimed her seat. There was no need for accolades at that moment in time.

“Mr. President.”

“Yes?”

As kind as she could be, Olivia began her inquiry.  “I need you to explain to me why you need my help. No vague terms. The plain truth.”

President Grant was back in his favorite chair, unbuttoning his jacket.  He took his time to answer. “I asked for a divorce last week.”

Olivia’s eyebrow raised.

“Mellie was very upset. I told her right before we went to bed.”

Cocking her head slightly, while remaining quiet, Olivia pondered. What kind of idiot gives a woman - especially his wife - such awful news at the most inconvenient time?  Cyrus cleared his throat, shooting a glance that read _Don’t start_. The exchange was lost on the third party.

“When else was I supposed to tell her? We’re working. Dinner time - there would have been knives. I am not happy. We’ve been married for 10 years and I’m not happy. Haven't been in 3 years.  I want to move on, but she won’t budge.  I’ve mentioned it to her. That we need space. We’re on different pages. But she shuts me down. Mellie thinks ‘Country first.’ I have a strong feeling that she will not play fair and it will get messy.”

The President talked with his hands. Moving them all over, to emphasize his thoughts. “My issue is damage control. I know it will not be good, but I need someone on my side. Who can speak for me to the public, and be a bulldog. Tenacious. When the naysayers come with lies. If she uses the press against me.”

“I see,” Olivia said. “What S.O.P.’s do you have in place?’

“Liv, this is something new to all of us. This is different than a bill being passed or traveling overseas. This is the President’s personal life. We’re going to start from the ground up.”

Olivia reiterated her suggestions, allowing the President and Chief of Staff to mull over their options. She waited for them to discuss.

“This is good. Very good,” the President confirmed. “Let’s get it done.”

“Alright.”

“Can you start working here tomorrow?”

“I have my credentials and I can visit whenever I can,” Olivia stated. “But I have my business. My other clients.”

The President chuckled. “That's fine, but I need you here. I will do whatever you need to put them aside.”

“Excuse me?”

“This could be your full-time job for a while. I need your full commitment.”

Olivia set her notepad aside, again. “I multi-task and I have a team,” she answered firmly. “I won’t have to shut down my business in order to take this project on. How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“How. Long?”

Her voice was firm. Her eyes, sharp. Waiting for his answer. She did not move.

“Three months. Tops.”

“Alright. Who is going to be your spokesperson,” Olivia asked quickly.

“Not sure.”

Olivia wrote the response in her notes.

“What about timelines? When are you going to release a statement? Who is your lawyer?”

“We don’t know yet, Liv,” Cyrus said pointedly. “Planning stages.”

A forced smile.  

“What _do_ you know? How about Rob Keller, your communications director?”

Cyrus interjected, “Rob realized that he had to give his all in order to keep this issue under the radar. With the rumblings, per the Press Corps and TV heads constantly badgering him. He got anxious. Damn, he even faltered when asked about the limited joint appearances. I almost fired him last year during the coverage of ---”

“That's enough, Cy,” the President interrupted with a raised voice and furrowed brows. Returning his focus on Olivia, he softly added, “I have my doubts about everything these days, but Cyrus usually doesn’t steer me wrong.  How will I know that you'll give it your all and protect my image?”

Olivia didn't answer right away. Giving herself a moment to compose herself, to find the right words. This environment of doubt was going too far. “You won’t have to be worried. This is what I do. My clients win. They deserve as much attention as I can humanly give. For you, it will be no different. I would eat, breathe, and live President Fitzgerald Grant, every minute of every day. You'd be lucky to have me. That is my stance on this issue.”

Once again, the man sitting across from her was frozen in his seat. She couldn't tell if he was irritated or intrigued. But it didn’t matter how he felt. She wasn't about to have another round of “Let's question the professional”. So, she only responded in the way that made the most sense - putting a stop to the foolishness.

“Now, what is your endgame?”

The President searched into the contents of his glass. With a finishing sip, he commented, “I want to be able to finish my term, without a personal tarnish. To be the first President to accomplish all he has to do, even though he doesn't have a wife anymore. I want to be me again.”

His eyes were back on her.  Another somber, quiet moment between the two. Even with Cyrus right there. A moment that connected them, pushing them towards the same goal. Olivia blinked again, nodding in agreement.

“Then that’s what we will do.”

An hour later, Olivia had enough information, signed her contract, and prepped for her first day. Cyrus informed his boss that he had a briefing in 10 minutes. Olivia was on her way out when the President asked her to stay for a minute.

“Thank you again for taking this on. I trust you and your instincts.”

“My gut.”

“What?”

“My gut. That’s what I call it,” Olivia revealed. “My gut. It’s never wrong.”

The President cracked a smile, while rocking on his toes. “Good. I’m glad we’re in good hands.  And you're right. I would be lucky to have you.”

His voice was so delicate. A hushed tone that was borderline therapeutic.

Olivia paused before telling him.

“I need to meet with the First Lady.”

* * *

She requested an emergency meeting at the office. All hands on deck.

“Everyone, we officially have a new client.”

Olivia slapped a picture on the oversized window in the boardroom that served as a poster board.

The loud gasp from Quinn.

Stephen’s typical “hmm”.

Of course, a judgy Abby Whelan comment. “Republican.”

“We are helping him,” Olivia corrected. “There’s no vote this time. I’ve already signed the contract.”

“But whenever we vote, you always win. So there’s no point.”

Harrison Wright, one of her tried-and-true associates, recalled with a cup of _something_ in his hand.

Olivia smirked, giving each member a folder. “President Grant is working through some personal issues and would like to tackle this head on, before the press gets wind of it. He is very serious about taking this next step of his term. Inside are some details. I have asked to meet with the First Lady, to get her take on things, and then we will hit the ground running.”

“Divorce?” Stephen was very puzzled after reading the first page of Olivia’s notes. “Why?”

“I don't know, but I'm going to find out.”

“What about this,” Harrison asked, pointing to a segment. “Did _this_ event fall into play?”

The group waited for Olivia's response, but she lifted her hand, halting further conversation. “I’m not going to speculate. I am going to wait for them to share with me.”

* * *

 

Arriving the next day with her credentials and more tools, Olivia marched into the White House in a black power suit and a fierce red heel. She waited in the sitting room, anticipating the permission to enter. The agenda of the day - a full morning with her new client.

A brief email check, scrolling through the inbox, making sure all her ducks were in a row. That the other cases on her plate were fine.  

“Good morning, Olivia.”

Her head lifted. The President was in the doorway, with a lazy smile, waving her inside.

“Good morning, Mr. President.”

“How are you today? Would you like anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?”

Olivia took a seat. “Water. Coffee - two creams, one sugar. And I am well, thank you.”

A cordial chit chat - much different from 18 hours earlier.  As the President prepared her cup, the First Lady entered. Instead of the door Olivia used, Mrs. Mellie Grant walked in from the opposite entrance, towards the offices.  Finally being able to view her, Olivia could notice this powerful woman’s demeanor. Seeing how this woman operated.

Chestnut hair properly curled. A emerald green dress, with nude pumps.  Makeup flawless and clean. Everything was perfect. Just how a First Lady was expected to look.  

“Mellie, I would like to introduce you to Olivia Pope.”

“Good morning, Olivia.”

Shaking her hand, Olivia greeted her. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Grant.”

“Please, call me Mellie.”

President Grant touched his wife’s shoulder. “Olivia is here to speak with us.”

“About what?”

The innocence of Mellie’s question was another sign that this couple didn’t discuss much. Olivia kept the moment in her brain, as to why he wouldn't mention her or the meeting to his own wife.

“Us.”

Mellie’s face lit up, as if she won a huge prize. “Oh? Please sit down, let’s talk. What is it that you do, Olivia? Are you a journalist?”

“I own a public relations firm on K Street. Our specialty is crisis management.”

The First Lady’s jaw dropped slightly, clearly shocked, but working very hard to keep a straight face.  Then, she showed a kind grin. “Wonderful. We need all the management we can get.”

Moving past the awkward, Olivia started the new conversation. “It appears that your image has taken a hit in the last few weeks.”

Mellie sighed, clasping her hands over her lap. “Yes, Olivia, people have their eyes to the group, gossipping and making a big fuss over nothing.”  She continued about making an impact on the world. “It's not easy, Olivia, balancing home and family life, with serving our great country.”

“That's not what she's talking about,” the President stated curtly. “She wants to know about us and our most recent development.”

“When did this all start?”

“This nonsense about divorcing me?”

“We’ve talked about this.”

Mellie spoke through gritted teeth, and eerily smiling with her eyes. “No, we haven’t. Why can’t we just work on it? Make an effort on our relationship? In private. We worked too hard for you to just throw in the towel. You’re always so quick to end things. Give up.”

“Why…”

Olivia interrupted the two. “Have you considered counseling?”

“I have,” the First Lady proudly replied. “Two days after Fitz told me what he wanted to do, I called our Pastor the other day and asked for a meeting. We talked after Church - he and his wife. We prayed.”

Olivia shot a glance at the President. He looked disinterested, lips pursed, eyeing the details of the carpet. .

“Am I boring you?”

“No.”  His quiet response spoke volumes.

She had to think fast. How to adjust and create a safe space.

“I’m here to help. Not to stir any pots or create further distance. Mellie, I would like to hear you right now. What do you think caused this? The President’s choice to want a divorce?”

Mellie realigned her posture, becoming the personable Southerner that everyone had known.  “This is when I knwe something was wrong. He became distant. He decided to look somewhere else… After, after… we lost the baby.”

Olivia remained stoic. It was the one thing she was waiting to talk about, but not actually prepared to hear.  Watching the First Couple’s faces as they discussed the most painful experience of their lives was heartbreaking. Everyone knew about what happened but no one talked.

Mellie conceived a year into their campaign. There was lots of speculation as to why it was only the two of them, but they were waiting for the right time. He wanted the baby to grow up in a normal environment, but she wanted the entire world to know. America’s Baby.  After six years of marriage, they finally had their baby. Press conferences, special interviews on the road, featuring Mellie’s choices for names and clothes and nursery palettes. So much attention on this family. When their son was born, there was much to celebrate over. But stressful times led to rash decisions. Three weeks before Election Day, Fitz's mother was in town from California, decided to get fresh air and ran errands with the baby.

They never returned. A flaw in the car's system caused her to lose control on a slick road, swerve off, and crash into a tree. They died on impact.

The tragedy crushed them. The Grants tried to grieve in private, but with the constant microscopic view, centered on them, it was nearly impossible to hide away. Thankfully, the press kept their distance, somewhat giving them time to “heal”. Or however such a process occurs.

But there was still an election; Fitzgerald Grant was still in the running. Mellie and others encouraged him to keep going. For the baby. For his mother. As a military man, he knew how to switch gears in times of distress. And so they pushed forward and won the election. Two and a half years have passed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Olivia,” Mellie said, taking her husband’s hand. “We will always keep him in our memory. Right, Fitz?”

_Fitz._

Her heart thumped and she wanted to run out immediately.

“We put blame on ourselves,” the President revealed. “I thought it was my fault. We were all over the place, trying to balance with family and this house,” he gestured with such disdain. “I wasn’t around. I didn’t spend enough time with him. I did so much, I believed, and still couldn’t be there to save my son.”

With a sigh, Mellie told Olivia, “Yes. We all tried.”

“Hmm,” he murmured.

“What was that?”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed.

“Nothing.”

“Has the loss of your son affected your relationship?”

The Grants spoke in tandem, “Yes.”

“Did you replace this void with service to our country?”

“Yes.”

She could tell this was the cornerstone of their marriage’s dissolution. But she knew there was more. Sometimes couples grow stronger after the loss of a child. There are the exceptions, the growing percentage that they didn’t. Gingerly stepping over the boundary line, she calmly inquired, “I have to ask, only to help me do my job. Have either of you stepped outside of your marriage?”

Mellie cleared her throat and rubbed her wrists. Fitz breathed deeply, twisting his lips.

“The President…”

“Yes,” he plainly confirmed. “I have.”

Olivia slowly blinked, using her note taking as a breather from his intense gaze.

“Is it still happening?”

“No.”

Huffing with a smirk, Mellie quipped in her thick Carolinian accent. “Are you sure about that, honey?”

“Mellie, stop.”

The First Lady shifted her attention towards her husband. “Let's be honest. That’s why we’re in this mess. Because you decided to use a chastity belt with me, but drop trow with some hoochie downtown. Now, all of a sudden you want to leave? To have your freedom. So you can do it with other people?”

“You won't even,” her husband shouted, but immediately lowered his tone. “You won’t even let me touch you!”

“Oh? That's why you're looking to other places. No counseling? To get your fix and ego stroked?”

“That’s _not_ it, Mellie and you know that!”

Mellie pressed her hands against her temples, then dropped them as she took a sharp breath. Olivia noticed she would do this to compose herself.

“Would you like to share with Miss Pope how that came about? Your wandering eye?”

“No.”

Mellie directed her attention to their visitor, “He wants a divorce to get away from me. Because he didn't realize that this is how I've been this whole time! He can't handle being tied down.”

The tension was weighty, making it hard to breathe. How a put-together couple, that showed the world of their class, their passion for serving people, could disintegrate right before her eyes. Allowing her to observe the nasty, the hurtful, the cold side of a broken marriage.

“From what you’re telling me it's correct to say that you do not want to proceed with the divorce?”

“Absolutely not,” Mellie said. “There are rough patches, but I'm willing to stick it out.”

The President rolled his eyes, grabbing his Scotch. “You know this is a lie, Olivia. She doesn't want to lose credibility with the ratings. That's all she wants. To be seen. She'd rather lie than face the truth that this isn't working anymore.”

Mellie threw her head back, laughing. “You are impossible! I earned my right to be here. It’s not just about you, Fitzgerald.”

“Because you’re power hungry and you don’t want to give up this ornamental position!”

Olivia’s eyes widened as she watched the Grants go at with their words. Mellie stood, pointing her finger. “I will dig my heels for as long as it takes. You will be worthless without me! I actually care about this White House and if you want to squander this opportunity - so be it! But not on my watch.”

Mellie waved her hands in frustration, stomping away. When the door slammed, the President rubbed his forehead.  Then, he decided to break the silence. 

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to be a counselor.”

Forcing a nonchalant answer, she replied, “I've heard worse."

Olivia leaned forward. “Why are you getting a divorce?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why?”

President Grant reached for his glass, only to find that it was empty.  “Is that any of your business?”

Olivia took a sip of her cold coffee. “Actually, yes. Details matter. I have one rule in my line of work. Don’t lie. If I know the truth, I can spin it to however it needs to be. How you want your story to be told. But I can’t do that if you lie.”

She waited for him to tell her. His eyes shift to the floor, then back to his glass.  She waited for him to catch her stare. 

“Spill.”

“Fine,” he sighed.

Taking a beat to rise, and pour a small serving of a Scotch.  Olivia continued to observe him - slowly drinking the amber liquid; hearing him breathe deeply.

“After Mama and our son... I went into a depression. I couldn’t sleep.  I lost the two people I loved the most. The same day, Olivia.  I was drinking too much. As you can see, I have a dependency. I was trying to cope but I wasn’t doing it the right way. Mellie couldn’t function. Work was our savior.  We didn't communicate properly. Only going to each other for comfort, but of course, I would get very disappointed. I think we saw each other as wounded creatures, and anger rose from that. She wouldn’t even look at me when I tried to touch her.  Cy did his best to make us look good for the public. But I fucked up, one of the new staffers. She was...incredible. She made me feel wanted. And hot. I was able to get away from it all.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes; an explanation was needed but she wasn't expecting a full blown confession with details. The President winced as Olivia gradually looked elsewhere.

“Shit, umm. Sorry. I wasn’t at my best. I regret it.  I was weak. I felt like I was at the top of the world. Invincible; no one was going to stop me. I wish I could have ended things with Mellie sooner. To avoid the pain. I didn’t mean to hurt her... That was not my plan. I just---I just couldn’t take being alone and hurt. I can't look at her and _not_ see my baby. It floods my thoughts and I can't do anything. I'm tired of not being myself anymore. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were already here, I can’t keep disappointing her, Cyrus, my family, the country. ”

Olivia crossed her arms. “Thank you for being honest with me. Are you being honest with me that it’s not occurring? That you’re not _involved_ right now?”

It felt very odd asking the President of the United States if he was keeping his manhood in check, but as one who has to scan and makeover a personality’s image, Olivia had to ask the hard questions. The inquires that made a man squirm in his seat and avert his eyes from her pointed stare. Whatever it took to pull out as many details, so she could keep those details tucked away from grubby hands and shifty eyes.

“I’m staying clean until after the divorce is finalized.”

“That could take a while. How are you going to resist?”

The President nodded with a poignant chuckle. “Well, I’m working on it. Men can be dastardly creatures. Resisting temptation is not my strong suit.”

“Have you considered the possibility of not running again?”

“At times. I'm going to be honest with you, Olivia. It's too much. I remember about my son, my mom, the pressure to be great when I just want to be myself. I think that somehow moving would make the pain go away.”

“I am very sorry about all that has transpired on your journey to your presidency."

Olivia’s cell rang, almost making her jump out of her seat.  

“Excuse me, I need to take this.”

The President nodded as she walked towards the door.

“Hello?  Mmhmm. Okay. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

Olivia ended the call and smiled. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to be getting back. Thank you for your time.”

The President returned to his desk. “Thank you, Olivia.”

So much had been discovered in Olivia's time with the Grants. The intricate and devastating facts of the last five years were about to emerge from their deep closet of secrets. As Olivia said her goodbyes to the security guard and walked to her car, she began to think about how messed up her new client had become. In the midst of all of this, she felt...empathy. She felt sorry. But she couldn't let feelings dictate her job.

Now, she had the equipment to get her team ready to work on this case. She was going to focus on his goal, which became her goal. 

Giving the President a new lease on life.


	3. Chapter 3

A glass constantly filled with du Bellay, the wine she believed was made for her.  Papers and folders were stacked on both sides of the sofa cushion. A muted playing of campaign pieces. Two full pages of contacts she needed to make her plan work.  This was how Olivia's evening transpired for the last four years. Including the weekends. Any hopes of “normal” activity, socializing, even the simple event of grocery shopping was shot to hell.

Not that she didn’t spend her off-days relaxing. That wasn't a gear she felt comfortable being in. But this was a different thing. A monumental shift in her career.  

But she couldn’t neglect her life before this shift occurred. There was still a lot to do with her current clients. Olivia couldn’t miss a step because they were relying on her. Thankfully, the seasoned team at OPA was gracious enough to take the lead, only reaching her when she had a breather.

Olivia reviewed the contact sheet. The marks in red were threats - anyone who could use the information they had and turn the Administration into dust.  With a green checkmark, she found participants who could help her agenda. Getting Fitzgerald Grant III off the hook. There had been scandals and faux pas’ with past presidencies. But this would be a major overhaul for a leader of a party that forced their agenda of white picket fences and perfectly formed families. A visual revamping.

He was a rarity - very moderate for a Republican. He was liked, but there was a demographic who wanted to see him fall. Gradually, he was turning the hearts of his constituents and past voters to follow him. This would be a difficult task, to avoid a fatal blow to his political career. How was she going to make him look good after all of this?

She fell asleep on the couch - her least favorite area. But her mind was at the point of exhaustion where the signals couldn't reach her extremities, helping to move along to the bed.

The phone blared in her ear. Without checking the screen, her finger pressed the green telephone symbol.

“What?”

“Hi, hello, how are you?

Olivia’s hand covered her eyes as she breathed through her nose. She hated formal greetings and she knew that voice.  “Hi, hello, how are you, _what_?”

The familiar cackle reminded her of the old days. “There ya go. That's better. We need you to come in.”

“When?”

“As early as you can.”

Olivia pulled the phone away to check the time.  “Cyrus. It's 3 o’clock. In the morning.”

“Didn’t you read the contract,” he quipped. “You have the pleasure of serving the President. At all times. You answer the call, every time. Whenever I call you, you pick it up. You wake up in the middle of the night, ready to jump in the car to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. This is your job. Remember? You should be happy I didn't give you an exact time to be here. Line in 20 minutes.”

The response woke her up completely, as she reached for the bottle, taking comfort in the tart liquid.

“It's just like your work. But it's more important.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, not appreciating that low blow of comment. At all. Her work was important. She removed mountains, proverbially digging into the muddiest holes to clear the names of her clients. The President was like anyone else who called upon her services. He wasn’t special. This was business as usual.

“What does he need, Cyrus?”

“He wants to get the ball rolling and get this over with. I need you to write a statement for the morning briefing with the Press Corps. As well as meet Rob and his crony, Zachary St. Clair. Ugh, I can’t stand them right now. I don't trust them to write anything. It's their fault that any inklings of a divorce are in the air.” Cyrus muttered a few profanities. “Anyway. I want you to make sure they stay calm and on task. Just bring it home that they can not fuck this up.”

“Fine.”

“Liv?”

Her voice was still faint, from the lack of sleep. “Hmm?”

“I know you don't understand, you may not see at this moment. But you're already making a difference. He looks different now. He sees a light. There's hope in his eyes again. So, thank you.”

Olivia didn’t answer. It was her job to handle things. But usually the client was relieved afterwards. There was still lots to do and a long stretch before the finish line.

“I'll be there by 8. I need sleep.”  

She didn't prefer saying goodbye. So she just hung up the phone, leaving the mess, and walked to her room. The new day wouldn't go well if she didn't shut her eyes.

* * *

 “Rob, Zachary, this is Olivia Pope.”

“Good morning.”

Olivia shook hands with the two men.  Rob, being the elder statesmen, was poised and confident, while Zachary had youth written all of his appearance. But she could sense the fear in them. 

Only running on four hours, before meeting the Press Corps, the morning could have been a disaster waiting to happen. But thanks to great skin products and an extra shot of espresso, it wasn’t showing. Using her go-to black power suit, with white heels, Olivia was ready to conquer the day.  

“Hello.”

Cyrus gave the rundown: Zachary would give the statement Olivia wrote. While Rob would field any questions in appearances with the news outlets. Olivia would be around for a few hours, just in case.

“Read it over. Do not deviate. Reply to each question with variations of the aforementioned statement and of course, ‘No comment’ Got it?”

Zachary curtly nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Rob?”

“Absolutely. If this is what he wants, this is what we will do. I'll watch from the back.”

Olivia eyed both men. “I want to make it clear. I am not a threat. I want you to keep your job. But do  _not_ fuck it up. I’ll see you in a few.”

Turning her heel so fast, Olivia stepped out of the office and quickly slipped into the Press Briefing Room. Keeping an eye on the people finding their assigned seats. Chit chatting and reviewing notes and questions. She had met several journalists in past cases. After going back on previous briefs, Olivia knew the statement would suffice, but she wanted to observe the press corps and Zachary’s body language. Seeing giveaways. Hiding the tells that they were avoiding the truth.

Olivia stood in the back as Zachary approached the podium. The flashes and clicks of cameras going off every five seconds.

“Good morning, everyone. The following is a statement from The President and First Lady. ‘Mellie and I have worked tirelessly for the last 10 years to serve our country well. Putting the people first since we agreed to cross over from private citizen to public servant. But we are human. We stumble. Priorities from years ago get sidetracked. And when you do not take time to focus on your personal life, it suffers. At this time, we are seeking counseling to heal ourselves and our marriage. We will be cutting back on public appearances to focus on our wellness - individually, mentally, and emotionally, and with together. We ask God to bless us as we move forward and ask for prayers and thoughts as we go through this difficult time. As well as total privacy in this matter. Thank you.’”

Zachary looked up, surveying the audience. A show of hands lifted, waiting for his calling.

“Yes, David?”

“Why didn’t the President give this statement?”

Zachary gave a courteous smile, to balance his rugged good looks. “President Grant is preparing for meetings.”

“What exactly does this statement mean? Are the First Couple having marital issues?”

“The First Couple are taking this time to refocus.”

“Usually that means there’s trouble in paradise.”

“No comment,” Zachary answered firmly, then pointed at another member of the Press. “Yes, Maureen.”

Maureen Brooks from The Post, one of Olivia's favorite journalists, asked, “Given the President’s past indiscretions, are the First Couple trying to form a new bond with their marriage?”

Olivia’s eyes widened. She was hoping whatever happened between the President and the staffer wouldn’t be brought up.

“I do not comment on the President’s personal life. Next question, please.”

“Will the First Lady be moving to Blair House?”

“No.”

“What brought about this statement?”

“The First Couple believe that being honest is the best policy. The Country voted the President in, and he feels that they deserve to hear the truth from him.”

“But you are releasing the statement, not him," a snarky journalist added.  Zachary smugly nodded. 

"Are the First Couple divorcing?”

“The First Couple will take some time to reflect and decide where to go from here. The life of public service is not for the weary. You all know that, right?”

The sound of chuckles filled the room, because everyone present was well-aware of the sacrifices made for being involved with politics. Olivia took note of Zachary's quick responses. Like a participant in a tennis match, he bounced back with smart answers. That was encouraging. 

“Has there been any extramarital endeavors? Since last year?”

Zachary’s sly grin disappeared, but he didn’t frown. Olivia narrowed her eyes, waiting for the moment. This could be the one quote that would be used for the rest of the news cycle. She watched him glance at her for any encouragement. Slowly nodded, she prompted him to continue.

“The details of President and First Lady Grant’s private life is just that. Private. No one speaking from this podium or representing this Administration will stoop low to comment on such malicious accusations.”

His detailed response was sufficient. Olivia nodded in approval.

“Because of this new development, will President Grant cancel his trip to France and Italy?”

“The President and First Lady will honor commitments that have been scheduled, but moving forward, they will decide which engagements to attend, as they work on healing.”

There was a pause after Zachary's last answer. The shuttering cameras and the sound of pens scribbling filled the room. 

“Thank you, everyone.”

Olivia lowered her head and began to tap on her cell, while waiting for the room to clear out. Several members of the Corps were finishing up, preparing for blog posts, articles, and updates on TV.

When she felt the time was right, she walked out. On her way to Cyrus’ office, she found Zachary.

“Good job.”

“Thanks.”

“So this should buy us time.”

“I think so,” Zachary agreed. “What's next?”

Olivia instructed, “Be prepared for any incoming calls from the stations, or dedicated nuisances. Because they’re going to do anything to try to catch us. Especially since they think the President’s affair is resurfacing. We need to make sure that she stays quiet. Let that be Rob’s department.”

“You got it,” Zachary replied.

Olivia marched down the hall, already thinking of the next step. The news desks would begin to speculate, analyze every sentence that came from the podium. The analogies. Rewinding the clock to pinpoint any missteps or a red flag.

Cyrus was standing outside his office, as if he knew she was coming over to see him. He gestured for her to step in. “That sounded pretty good. Zachary didn’t foul up this time.”

“That’s because I gave him ultimatums,” she dryly commented. “You’ll be fine with him. Need to ride it out, or the press will get skeptical.”

“Good, good. By the way, the President would like to meet with you.”

“Why?”

“Because. He wants to speak with you.”

Olivia pursed her lips; there wasn't a reason why they needed to talk at the moment. Cyrus was the mediator and she liked it that way. He was the President’s right hand. But when one is asked, she must go and answer the call.

It took 45 seconds to reach Lauren's desk. The President’s secretary grinned, lifting her hand to the door. Olivia nodded as she approached the door. It was ajar.  She could do this. There was nothing to be afraid of. He asked for her, so there wouldn't be anything to be worried about. 

A quick wrap and she waited for a response.

“Come in.”

Olivia stepped inside.

“Good morning, Mr. President.”

President Grant looked up from his desk, giving her a smile. His eyes did appear to be brighter than a week prior. “Olivia, hello. How are you today?”

“I’m fine,” Olivia answered. Instead of being starstruck in his presence, she walked to the Resolute Desk, staying on task and handed a folder to him. “Zachary just spoke. As you can see, nothing on the statement was adjusted. He did everything according to the plan.”

The President hummed, scanning the paper, then pushed the folder closed.

“Everything alright, Mr. President?”

“Yeah,” he said. Olivia noticed his tone was dull. “I don’t understand why we have to lie.”

“With all due respect, Sir, I don’t think a morning brief that flat out tells the Nation you’re planning on getting a divorce would be a good idea. We have to ease this into fruition, if it’s the result you want. We can’t force this. They have to adjust to the idea that you, a member of a party that’s big on keeping family values intact, is going to dissolve your marriage.”

“Sir?”

Olivia was confused by his incredulous response. “Hmm?”

The President rose from his chair, hands already in his pockets. “You don't have to call me that. You can call me Fitz, if you'd like.”

A deep frown covered Olivia's face. “What?”

“You’ve elevated yourself into my inner circle now. The realm of knowing some of my deep secrets. That warrants first-name basis. It seems odd to call me Sir. I won't hold it against you.”

Olivia shook her head. "You're the President, Mr. President. No disrespect to you, Sir.”

“I’m not a grandpa. I bet I'm only 10 years old than you," he wisecracked.

There was certain look about him that made her shiver. She was not about to fall for his smooth talking. Already a step ahead, Olivia replied without a beat. “Probably so. But I won't be doing that. That would be inappropriate. I work for you.”

President Grant let out a quick exhale, a huff. “Okay. You’re right. It just feels so stuffy. But anyway. What is our next step, Olivia?”

“I’ll be glad to tell you.”

Olivia walked to her purse that was settled on the couch, taking two additional sheets of paper back to the President.

“What are you planning to do?”

With confidence, Olivia revealed, “We’ll need to create a diversion. A few times when the public sees you and the First Lady together. You could be walking down the straight. Doesn't matter, but they need to see that you tried. Like the statement said. But gradually, you will attend separate events. You two will agree upon a few photo ops that you’ll need to do. So, when the marriage is officially dissolved, it looks like you’re on the road to recovery. Finding your inner peace, after the heartache of breaking up with the love of your life.”

The plan sounded great in her mind. Sharply executed. The problem fixed. Everything would work. Olivia smiled but when she faced the President, his face did not reciprocate her optimism.

“What?”

“She isn’t.”

“Hmm?’

President Grant shrugged. “She isn’t the love of my life.”

Olivia’s smile vanished. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Her voice came down to a hush. Not thinking about how this affected him. All she considered with the dilemmas and how to smooth things over. Not the actual emotions that led to the events.

“It’s alright. Things happened. You rush into something you think is good for you, and you find out it isn’t the best. Then it takes a while to realize how much of a mess you've made.”

“I see.”

“Have you ever gone through that before?”

Olivia wasn’t ready for the questions to be pointed at her. Talking about her life outside of work wasn’t a topic she discussed with anyone. But with this President - as powerful as he was - she felt like she could let down her guard. Just a little. 

“Yes.”

“So you know how this feels?”

“Yes.”

The President’s shoulders drooped, before he crossed to sit down in his chair. 

“I’m sorry that you had to deal with this too.”

“So,” Olivia interjected, “Are you ready to ease your way into the single life?” She watched the President lean back, becoming relaxed again.

“I haven’t been single in 13 years. I don't even know what I would do.”

Olivia gazed at him. For a split second, she was lost in his eyes. This never happened. 

“Mr. President?”

“Yes?”

“I will have to remind you of something.”

“What’s that?”

“For starters, you can’t go out on any public dates until this blows over," Olivia stated, finding a seat on the farthest cushion, returning to her senses. "You still have a country to run. We don’t want to show you off as a wild stallion, not having a brain because you are newly unattached.”

President Grant's crooked smile appeared as he deferred to Olivia. “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

A week passed. The cycle moved to other pressing issues, which relieved Olivia. She didn’t sleep much because there was lots of work to do. Maintaining a razor sharp eye on the President of the United States and his “problem”, while running her pride and joy - her business.  Every move, every glance, every turn. She needed to know so she could act or counteract anything and everything that came their way.

The word on the street was that someone in the First Lady’s camp was leaking out info. That the president was getting restless and wanted to break free, and she wanted to save her marriage. Paparazzi or some slick mole took a picture of her with the Pastor’s wife.  So Cyrus, Olivia, Rob, and the OPA staff, work mercilessly to shoot the rumors down.  In addition, she was able to get photo ops of the Grants, standing on the White House grounds and doing charity work.

“Hey Liv,” Harrison asked, as he arrived at her office. 

“Yeah?”

“We’re pretty much set with the Senator’s case. Would you like to come with us?”

Olivia declined. “I wish I could, but I need to finish something.”

“How are you doing?”

“Fine.” Which she was, but not at her complete best. 

“Okay. Need any help with the Grant situation?”

“Not at this time," she said, finishing with writing down notes. "But I’ll keep you posted.”

Just as Harrison was about to speak, Olivia’s phone rang. It was labelled _White House_. So, she asked Harrison to wait as she answered.

“What is it, Cy?”

“It's not Cy.”

The sharp intake of her breath startled her. 

"Olivia?"

She didn’t know what to say. How could a voice stop her in her tracks? Making her forget everything? Harrison must have seen the shock on her face, because he left, closing the door.

"Olivia?"

"Yes?"

"Hi."

"Hi," she echoed. 

"I didn't mean to startle you but I didn't have your number. So I asked to use Cyrus' phone."

Olivia tapped her pen, willing away the nerves by being on the phone with the President of the United States. "Okay."

"I wanted to ask a favor of you. I'm leaving for Europe in a few days and I would like for you to come on the road with me.”

“Excuse me?"

The President chuckled. “I would like you to join me as we travel overseas. It will be easier for me to say the right things if you’re there by my side.”

“I don’t think that's a good idea." Olivia fumbled with a logical explanation. "The cameras follow you everywhere. No one knows I'm working on this and I want to keep it that way. I like to stay in the background.”

“But I need your help. I know the press will sneak in questions and I don't want to foul it up. If we're in the same time zone, I can easily call and ask for counsel. You don't have to be next to me. I just…need you.”

Olivia contemplated every part of the invitation. What would happen if she said no? Her influence was needed. 

“How long is the trip?”

“Ten days.”

“Let me think about it.”

“Okay.”

“When do you need an answer?”

“As soon as you're able to give it," the President said. 

Olivia pressed her hand over her forehead.  “I'll let you know in the morning.”

“Okay. Thank you for considering."

"You're welcome."

"Hope the rest of your day goes well, Olivia."

"Thank you, Mr. President. You too."

After she disconnected the call, Olivia sat quietly in her office. Wondering about every option. Whenever a decision was on the table, it never prompted her rethink her life and reputation. There shouldn’t have been a waiting period. With each client, after a few minutes, she usually knew exactly what to do after listening to her gut. Her gut never steered her wrong. Having to get on a plane to work out a negotiation? No biggie. Staying up for days at a time to work out a pristine statement to win a case? Easy peasy. 

This was different. This was an opportunity she may never receive again. One of her dreams had been to work at the White House, but under different circumstances. Why would she even think about uprooting her comfortable situation in Washington, with a job that she was passionate about, with people who she loved and trusted?  Why was another phone call altering her life's plan? She was used to being behind the scenes. Rarely showing her face so the focus could be on the client. They were the ones who needed to be fixed.

Olivia's anonymity would be compromised as soon as she walked down the tarmac on Air Force One. The phone would ring off the hook, potential clients would storm to the office. Any promise of a simple life in her apartment would fly out the window. 

Was she truly adjusting her modus operandi for this man? What kind of magic or power did Fitzgerald Grant the III have over her?  

She needed to talk to her team. Find out if they would be alright with this quick change. But in the end, it was her decision to make. 

As she stood to find them, Olivia Carolyn Pope knew what to do.

She was going to say yes. 


	4. Chapter 4

"What do you see in him?"

"Abby."

"No, I mean it! Liv, what are you smoking that you'd want to actual travel with this man?"

"Abby."

"Fine! I want to hear it from your lips."

Two minutes after Olivia grouped the team into the conference room and explained the what's and why's, Abby began to dissent. The others stood quietly with amused expressions.

"As I was saying, he asked. I thought it over. My expertise is needed in this delicate situation. He's our client and that's final, regardless of his work position. It's not easy, but he's got something I can work with."

Abby rose from her seat, side eyeing Olivia. "Okay, Savior of Washington, DC. Work your magic and do whatever you want. We will be fine."

Harrison was too busy stifling a laugh and Stephen could only roll his eyes. The tirade was understandable, but all the way over-the-top. When Abby realized how upset she was, she stammered, "I'm not mad. I just don't get it… He's a Republican, Liv. He represents everything you hate."

As she sat down on the table, Olivia confirmed, "I for one, am apolitical when it comes to representing clients. My views do not matter, usually. I know you feel differently. But that's why I'm involved personally. So you won't have to feel conflicted."

The groans and eyerolls gave away Abby's disagreement. Being a staunch Democrat, she did not tolerate any type of bullshit that was related to the opposing party. To know that Olivia was less vocal, irritated her to the core.

"Whatever you say, Olivia."

"This will be great for you," Stephen encouraged, in his crisp British accent. "Don't worry about us. We've been at this game for four years. It's only a week and some change. Think of it as a vacation."

Olivia shot a daring eye towards him. "Yeah, I'm the petite nanny on vacation, watching the most spoiled human being on the planet."

With a hearty chuckle, Stephen put his hands on Olivia's shoulders. "Now, now. Do not get into the mindset. That's not who you are. You're a gladiator. The fiercest woman I know. I guarantee that you'll enjoy it. When was the last time you went to Italy? Do what you're assigned to do, but also have fun. You deserve a break."

"Alright."

* * *

The drive to the White House felt longer than usual. Olivia grabbed her credentials, showing it to the friendly guard, Morris.

"Have a great day, Miss Pope."

"You too!"

When she walked through the side door, she was greeted by Lauren.

"Miss Pope."

"Yes?"

"Right this way," Lauren spoke. Olivia was ushered down the hall, into an office. It was bare, on the smaller side, but quite cozy.

"This will be your office for the next few days. Here is your extension. 213 is Mr. Beene's desk. Press that one for the President."

Olivia's brows lowered. "I don't understand."

"In preparation for the European tour, the President wanted to ensure that you had access to him and Mr. Beene."

"Okay…"

The door was closed, leaving Olivia to explore the space. Only in her imagination, had she thought about sitting in the West Wing, being a powerful player. Her daydream interrupted by the phone ringing. Maybe it was a wrong number, but Olivia answered nonetheless.

"This is Olivia Pope."

"Hi, Olivia Pope."

Slowly, the corners of her mouth lifted. She knew that voice. The voice that haunted her dreams.

"Hi."

"Like your new office?"

Scanning the room, Olivia replied softly, "I don't get why you had to push someone out for me to have some temporary space."

"I thought you'd like it."

"I don't need special favors, Mr. President."

"I'm treating you like any Senior official in my cabinet. You are vital to my success right now and I want you to have a place to call your own for a while. If that's okay."

Olivia didn't want to accept his generosity, but there was no point in arguing. "Yes."

"Good."

This man was ensuring that he stayed on her good side.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said. "When you get a chance, can you come to my office? Cyrus wants to go over a few appointments on the tour."

She didn't hesitate: "I'll be there soon."

"Great. See you then."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Bye."

"Bye," his smooth baritone echoed.

As she hung up, Olivia released a sigh, but only to rush out, giving herself the business for sounding like a fangirl. 

"Get your shit together," she reprimanded.

Ten minutes later, Olivia was sitting in the Oval, with President Grant and Cyrus, reviewing notes. When Cyrus was satisfied, he departed. Leaving Olivia and the President alone. The last thing she wanted, but the only thing she needed to happen.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

Olivia crossed her leg, ready to spill. "Why isn't the First Lady traveling with you?"

The President's eyes flitted, seemingly nervous to reveal. "Mellie chose to cancel."

"Which means?"

"She's very hurt. She knows things are winding down and she's the process of making plans. It's probably for the best that we not make things worse."

Olivia understood the logic. "I see."

"Anything you'd like to ask?"

The invitation was appealing; maybe a reach into more pressing issues would suffice. It was typical to ask of very personal matters. That was Olivia's job. But there was a reason to know.

"Do you two sleep in the same room?"

President Grant lifted his head, chuckling. "Tough-hitting question, Olivia. Sometimes. I don't mind going over to the guest room. Oh, for your information, nothing happens."

"Excuse me?"

Olivia was shocked by his candor; maybe he knew why she was asking.

"We haven't been intimate in a while."

"What does 'a while' mean?"

The President whispered, "A few months."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Didn't you tell me not to lie? That's the crux of any assignment, right," President Grant explained. "I'll be honest. Things aren't great in the East Wing. If you want to spin it as much that we grew apart, there is proof. We don't have sex. That's what you observed by just looking at me and hearing me."

A few talking points were written in her notebook - for future reference.

"Olivia?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you want to do this? I don't want you to think that I'm forcing you to join us."

She couldn't let her professionalism fall apart in a moment. "I'm here to represent you and make sure that what we decided to do, happens. If that means I have to be in the same room, prompting you the neatest of answers, so be it."

President Grant cracked a smile. "Okay."

Then, his eyes narrowed, giving her the exact intense look that occurred weeks earlier. Breath-taking.

"I have to go."

"Do you have anyone you need to contact before you leave? We head out tomorrow."

"No."

Olivia's sharp answer made the President flinch with surprise.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

She rushed out again. If there was going to be any kind of success on this European crusade, Olivia was going to have to subdue her emotions, including the budding attraction to her client. That was the cardinal sin - becoming attached, emotionally.

* * *

Embarking on a trip anywhere was a production for Fitzgerald Grant and his staff. But when the destination is overseas, more was required.  Olivia was given a detailed list of what to pack, while Cyrus stood nearby, going over the logistics.

"Why aren't you coming?"

Cyrus sighed, "I have to run this lovely establishment. We can't have too many powerful individuals absent for more than a day."

Olivia didn't believe a word. "Cyrus," she groaned. 

"Don't," he waved his finger. "I don't travel overseas. That's why I recommended for  _you_  to go."

"Are you kidding me?"

Cyrus raised his eyebrows, staring Olivia down. "What? You don't want to go? Fine, I'll see if I find someone who has clearance."

A deep breath released. "I'll go. I didn't think you weren't going."

"Liv. This will be fine. You are well prepared. You're there as a go-between with the President and the press."

Why they had so much trust in her, Olivia was curious. She had never worked with anyone higher than a CEO or a Senator. To be given this level of responsibility.

"Please, feel free to tour the cities. Here is a card that you can use. About seventy-five. An extra phone, so you won't have to use any of your minutes."

Olivia smirked, "Seventy-five. What do you do with that? Get a coke?"

"Oh my Lord, Liv," Cyrus shook his head. "Seventy-five hundred."

The gasp she expelled, sounded more like an animal than a human. "Hell no."

"You're taking it and that's final. It's an over and beyond gift. Most of it came from me anyway. I allotted the money just for this. Have fun."

She took a moment to peruse the additional items on the checklist.

"Liv, if you need anything. Anything. You call me."

"You got it."

"I'll see you when you get back."

Olivia sent a text to Harrison and Abby, informing that she would leave soon, and to text her if anything needed approval. Thirty minutes later, she climbed aboard. The seat she was offered, was comfortable, with plenty of room.

All stood as the President entered. 

"Good morning, everyone."

Olivia watched him greet the crew, and other staff members. He could really work a crowd. 

"Good morning, Olivia."

"Good morning."

"Ready?" 

"As I'll ever be."

Of course, he would sit straight across from her. The universe was getting back at her for numerous under-the-table deals with her various clients and the folks who tried to ruin them. As the plane lifted off, Olivia couldn't possibly fix her gaze on him. That would give her facade away. He would know the extent of his hold on her. Gradually seeming into her psyche. Hoping to receive a smile, a thank you, or just a look that would carry her through any shitty problem.

When the passengers received the go-ahead to move around, Olivia shot up, finding the journalists. Ten in all, who could become Olivia's best friends, when this divorce news would break. She needed to see which individual would be the trusted confidant on speed dial. This trip would be the opportunity to determine who was worthy of the details, and in turn, present it correctly.

"Are you Olivia Pope?"

"Yes. How are you doing today?"

The group answered in kind. One in particular, Jake Ballard, from the New York Times, got her attention. Known as cocky S.O.B, inquired. "Are you working on President Grant's image?"

"I'm part of a team that is pushing a better narrative for him and the First Lady. Cyrus asked me to keep an eye on things since he won't be able to attend."

Olivia kept to herself the whole flight, catching up on a fluffy novel, that didn't require her to strategize.

"Liv?"

"Hmm?" Her head popped up, to face the voice that called upon her.

"Sorry. Is that alright if I call you that?"

Olivia took a breath, waving her hand. "Sure. I responded, so it should be fine."

"There's the spunk I've been waiting for all morning," the President joked, pulling a quick smile out of Olivia.

"What do you want to do as soon as we touch down. There will be press and I want to be ready."

Olivia earmarked the page, returning her attention to President Grant. "Okay, if anyone asks, you steer the conversation into your agenda. Reminding them of why you're in Italy in the first place. It's pretty simple. I can come up with a few prompts, if you'd like."

"Perfect. Thanks, Olivia."

"One more thing."

The President's eyebrows lifted. "Yeah?"

"You'll need to switch ties before we land," Olivia pointed. "That one's not going to work."

She almost laughed as the President examined the fabric; it was a red striped selection. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's okay, but there could be a better option."

"Well, come on."

Not thinking he would actually take her advice, Olivia followed President Grant into his room, a spacious cabin. There were three suits in the closet, along with five dress shirts, and eight ties. After receiving permission, Olivia rummaged through the colors, selecting a royal blue.

"Here."

"This is what I get for not having Mellie pick out my clothes." The President stated, as he loosened the tie. "She has fashion sense, I do not."

"Let me," Olivia offered.

She made quick work, swooping the tie around with precision.

"You must want me to look my best."

"Optics," she reminded, fully smitten by his blue eyes and lowly-pitched voice.

Their eyes were trained on each other for a while longer than usual. Once again, a normal moment that was growing into something more.

"Thank you." President Grant rubbed Olivia's arms. "Thanks for looking out for me."

Air Force One touched down at 6PM. The crowd was waiting as President Fitzgerald Grant stepped down the stairs, waving to them, giving a friendly hello to an Italian representative. With his guards flanking him, the President gave a brief statement. "Thank you for welcoming me. We are honored to be in this historic place. I am looking forward to meet with our friends, and discuss policies, as we continue the bond between Italy and the United States. Thanks."

Olivia was off to the side, with huge Chanel glasses covering half of her face. She was ready to change into her pajamas and open an authentic bottle of Red. But there was plenty to be done before she could shut her eyes.

* * *

The restaurant was empty, save for the whole Presidential posse.

"Salut!"

The servers came with bowls of pasta, meats, and wine. A perfect combination for a long traveling day. Olivia picked at her meal. The food was delicious; flavorful, bursting with spices. Her primitive years were spent overseas, where she could open her palette, and experience so much. That wasn't the problem. Feeling extremely nervous, by what others would think. If she broke out of her gladiator mode. If  _he_ would see past this layer that she wanted to keep covered.

Olivia listened in on the conversations. Lots of laughter, old stories, and wine flowed. Their voices drowned out as her mind wandered.

"Is everyone alright?"

She locked eyes with the President. His were full of concern. That was something she hadn't received in a while.

"How about you?"

After a quick nod and "I'm fine", Olivia took a sip, avoiding his gaze.

"Thank you, everyone. We will meet at 8am." President Grant rose and the table clapped for him. As he talked to one of the Cabinet members, Olivia slipped out. The elevator was taking too damn long.

"Hey. Are you going up?"

Olivia closed her eyes. "Yes."

The elevator opened. Two Secret Service members walked in, then Olivia, then the President, with an additional two men. She remained quiet as they ascended. It was rare to not have to move, think, or work on a brief. Olivia closed her eyes, leaning against the wall.

"I'm glad you're here."

"What?"

Olivia felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Are you alright?"

"I'm exhausted, it's been a few years since I've traveled abroad," Olivia explained, covering her face. "Sorry for my outburst. My body needs to adjust."

"Okay," the President softly replied.

The wait to arrive at their floor was unbearable. Cabinet members were all on the same floor; Olivia's room was two doors from the elevator. President Grant walked with her.

"If you need anything, my room is down the hall. You don't have to meet us at 8. You can come whenever you like."

Olivia felt like a wuss, complaining, when everyone else was just as tired. "Mr. President, that would be unfair. I can't be a diva. I'll see you then."

Watching him rock on his heels, she wondered if he was nervous. "Do you have your phone so you can reach your team or family?"

Olivia gave a nod of confirmation; "Good night, Mr. President."

"Have a good night."

His glance was intense. As she turned back to open her room's door, Olivia recapped all the interactions between them.

If only she could keep her distance, but still be effective.

* * *

As the days passed, Olivia and President Grant had more time to get to know each other. In between meetings and photo ops, the two would find themselves sitting in the conference room or a pavilion that was closed off to the public, just shooting the breeze.

"What's your favorite food?"

"Popcorn."

"What," he asked with an incredulous look. "That's not a food group."

Olivia scoffed, "You're doubting me?"

"Mmhmm," President Grant playfully hummed.

"Yours?"

"Steak, fettuccine, hearty meals. Well balanced and sustaining."

He was teasing her, which she thought was cute. The way his nose would crinkle right before he laughed, or motioned for her to continue. 

Interrupting him, she asked, "When's your birthday?"

"December 11th."

"A Sagittarius."

The two laughed.

"Okay, here's a good one," President Grant offered, leaning in. "Favorite date you've been on."

Olivia cocked her head, giving her boss a skeptical glance. "I don't date."

"Oh?"

"I'm not normal."

"Clearly."

"What about you?"

President Grant crossed his arms. "I love the outdoors. Bowling is fun. A cooking class never hurts. Taking a drive to the country. I heard the northeast is delightful in the fall."

An agent entered.

"Sir, sorry to interrupt. Mrs. Grant is on the line."

Olivia watched the President's cheery disposition fade. He stood and walked into the hotel. It brought a reality check; what in the world was she thinking? Playful conversations were only that.

He returned fifteen minutes later.

"Sorry. I had to take that."

Shrugging off the apology that didn't need to be uttered, Olivia asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. She wanted to update me on this purchase we made in Santa Monica. An addition on the house. We haven't visited in over two years, it's time."

"Oh," Olivia answered. The upbeat news made her stomach churn. Hearing his positive words about the First Lady during an interview plus this didn't sound right. But she wasn't attached to him at all. She had to compose herself. "Does that mean all is well in the Grant household?"

President Grant reached for his cup of water. After taking a slow chug, he grinned. "You thought about what I told the one reporter from earlier, didn't you?"

Olivia looked down, embarrassed.

"You underestimate how good of a politician I am. Liv, I also want to tell you. We're officially separated."

* * *

The flurry of voices, raises hands, and shuttering cameras nearly deafened Olivia's ears. They landed in Paris ten hours earlier. With his arrival, Fitzgerald T. Grant was on heartthrob status. A large crowd followed every appearance. Including women, who just wanted to be in his presence. He looked like perfection: tall, a bright smile, a wonderful personality. Plus, his gift of speech could persuade anyone to join his cause.

Olivia went ahead to prepare for the afternoon press conference. Cyrus gave her exact instructions and she had to follow them. When the President arrived, she opted to stand in the audience, instead of backstage. Only wearing black - nothing fancy - so she could blend in. She still needed to observe how he would respond to the topic of his marriage, while separating her personal feelings about the situation. 

Seven extensive questions were asked about the President's trip, but he allowed a few off-topic inquiries.

"President Grant!"

A man stood with a microphone; "With all the commotion about your personal life, how do you manage to still run a country and stick to the important topics you ran on?"

The President looked down, then smiled. "First of all, thank you for your question. It's not easy. But I have to surround myself with people who believe in my causes, knowing that hope and determination will still survive. Difficulties are always going to be in the equation. There have always been ups and downs. But through every experience, you realize who is in your corner. And you feel love in the unexpected places."

"Love?"

"Yes. It's true. During all of this, I am sure of one thing. I'm a man in love with an incredible woman."

Olivia thought the sentiment was wonderful, capturing the hearts of viewers and readers. That's what he needed to nullify the rumors for now. But there was a problem. The President of the United States was looking right at her. She didn't tell him where she would be. He found her among the people. Whatever common sense that should have been present, flew out the window. Jaw dropped, in a state of confusion. Olivia was stuck. Again. But she broke out of her trance, applauding with the others on a smooth answer.

When the press conference concluded, the President found Olivia checking her phone.

"How did I do?"

Olivia politely said, "Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Yes," Olivia shrugged, looking straight ahead. "I just approved of your answers. No-nonsense. Candid. This will be good for your image."

The President began to walk with Olivia down the hall, moving to the next event. "I'm learning from the best. And to be clear, I meant every word."

"That's good. Keep it up."

She didn't want him to see how she really felt about what he said. It was a game-changer.

* * *

Paris was a favorite destination of Olivia's. The visuals, the history, and the romance. It reminded her of the times she had vacationed with her parents. They would meet her in Europe and to her delight, they'd stay in Paris for three weeks. Olivia learned so much about herself. It was one of the best moments of her life, when everything was simple.w Skype calls and emails filled her agenda book. Already thinking ahead to what she needed to accomplish when she'd return to Washington. There was a knock. She hadn't called for room service, but maybe they were used to her frequent wine calls, so she stood to answer. Swinging the door wide, her eyes opened wide.

"Hi."

"Hi."

President Grant was at her door, gracing a sweet smile and mischievous eyes. "May I come in?"

Olivia replied, "I suppose."

"I won't be long," he told his agents. "Thanks, guys."

"How was your day?"

"It was alright," Olivia replied, a little uneasy by her appearance of an oversized sweatshirt and leggings. While the President was in a dress shirt and slacks.

"Shopping?"

"No. I had work to do and I wanted to stay off my feet."

"Cool," he answered, taking a seat.

"How about you? I don't remember anything major being on your itinerary."

"I took a gander around," President Grant said, "It was nice to visit downtown. Have you been here before?"

Olivia smiled, reminiscing again. "Yes, a few times. So...what's going on? Did you need something?"

"Liv-"

"Hmm?"

President Grant took a box out of his pocket. "I wanted to give you this."

"What is it?"

"Just open it."

Olivia shifted her eyes disapprovingly, before delicately pulling the ribbon so that she could pop the box open.

"A ring?"

"Mmhmm."

"Mr. President..."

A note slipped out. She skimmed over the semi-legible handwriting.

_Thank you for everything you do. I don't know what I'd be up to if you weren't saving me from every predicament I get myself into. Please take this as a sign of my eternal gratitude. -Fitz_

Olivia cleared her throat, pushing aside any emotions that was rising within her. The mist in her eyes didn't help her stubbornness.

"You don't have to wear it. But if you do, that would mean a lot."

"What kind is it?"

"I don't know. I saw it at an antique shop in town and it spoke to me. The size looked about right."

Olivia realized he noticed her fingers. What else could he be taking in consideration?

"It's called Doux Bébé."

"Sweet baby?"

"Ahh, you know," he commented, nodding.

"I took a few years in French," she mumbled, trying to downplay her extensive knowledge of languages. Olivia finally put the ring on her index finger. It was simple, with miniature stones as decorations. It looked so beautiful and to know that he bought it for her.

"Olivia?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like to get dinner?"

"What?"

President Grant chuckled at Olivia's surprise. "It doesn't have to be fancy. I haven't eaten and I was wondering if you'd like to join me."

"Who else will be there?"

"My agents."

"And?"

"That's all."

Olivia didn't have to think too long to give her answer.

"No."

President Grant asked, "Why not?"

"I don't think it'd be wise to be seen with you in public. By myself. Especially with everything that's going on. You haven't even announced your separation yet." The response was logical. Her mission was to smooth things over, not stir the proverbial waters. It would be more of a mess to clean.

"Will you consider it if we just eat here or the pavilion? I can make a few calls," President Grant suggested. "But I understand if you don't want to. Maybe some other time."

"The pavilion works," she answered. It wasn't smart, this could probably backfire, but she deserved to relax and have fun, like Stephen and Cyrus heavily suggested. Seeing his eyes brightened was the confirmation.

"Give me some time to change. I won't take long."

The President rose, moving towards the door. "Great. Call me when you're ready."

"Mr. President?"

"Yes?"

Olivia crossed to the foyer, stood on her tiptoes, while taking a hold of the President's arm. She kissed his cheek. Just a peck, but enough contact to see the affect when she pulled back. His cheeks blushed.

"See you in a bit."

_What in the hell was she thinking?_


	5. Chapter 5

Tangerine hues of sunlight bounced off the gold that currently graced Olivia’s index finger. She remained on the couch, transfixed by the piece of jewelry she received. After the President left, she tested it on every finger, to see what looked right. When it came to her fourth digit, she immediately removed the ring, having great disdain that she even thought it would make sense. To bee seen like this, the image would have snowballed into a commotion that she was not willing to partake.  

Olivia turned her finger slightly, observing the details. Quite intricate but still very simple. Two diamonds interrupted the looping pieces of gold, making the ring pop against her finger. It was still a mystery why the President would give her such a thing. Even its name was suggestive. Doux Bébé. _Sweet Baby._ A phrase of affection. A term only meant for someone that was special to him. 

Was she? Did he truly view her in a different way?

Then, she chastised herself for thinking this way and acting so cavalier. She kissed his cheek. She crossed the line.  It wasn't meant to be more, but she knew, it was perceived as such. She picked up on most of the clues and realized he probably felt the same way. The rush of everything fogged her brain, leading her to an action she would have forbade if it was anyone else. 

Olivia had connected well with her clients, but never like this. It was never deeper than empathy. Whatever the feelings, the way she would talk to him. Look at his face when he revealed another aspect of his personality, was different. 

This was the last thing she wanted, to complicate an existing dynamic. A failing relationship. A budding partnership. 

But something clicked. 

Crisp, dark lines were being smudged as the days went by. This was not how she was supposed to work; she prided herself in keeping her distance. But she was drawn to him. As soon as he apologized to her in that hallway, Olivia could sense a shift. All the time spent with him, learning about him as a person, was building into a fascination, a new respect for this man. Clearly failing at protecting boundaries, going out to dinner alone. Giving him that peck on the cheek wasn’t going to help her resolve.  Now, she was prepping to have dinner with this man. They probably wouldn’t even talk about his crisis at all. 

But there was no use to dissect every action now; she had a dinner to attend. 

Olivia changed into something less formal. A sleeveless bright yellow tank, dark blue jeans, and gladiator sandals would set the tone for a nice meal outside. Pulling her hair out of its classic bun, she tousled her waves, giving the ensemble a casual look. 

Finally, she texted him. Hearing his voice would throw her for a loop. 

_ I’m ready when you are. Where should I meet you?  _

Ten minutes later, she heard knocking.  Olivia willfully crossed over, not wanting to rush. Taking a peek through the “hole”, her lips quickly turned into a smirk. She closed her eyes, breathing through her nose, to prepare herself for anything that would happen, then opened the door. 

In a dark blue sweater with the collar of his dress shirt showing, with pewter grey slacks, the President smiled. 

“Hi,” his breathy response made her ears perk. Once again, she was reminded of how handsome he was. 

“Hi.” 

“You look amazing.”

Olivia looked down, already blushing. To deflect her reaction to his kind words, she tucked away a long lock of hair behind her ear. “Mr. President, you do too much. But thank you.”

“Wow.”

The awe in his voice was surprising. 

“What?”

“I’ve never heard anyone address me in such a way that sounded that good. I like that.” 

Olivia nodded, switching gears. “Good to know, because that's your name.” 

“Actually, it's Fitzgerald. Fitz for short.” 

The snark he was giving was downright sexy. She couldn’t let him get away with that. 

“Okay.” Olivia turned around to grab her clutch, fast enough to hide the smile she was wearing.  

The President continued, “I’m serious. Since we've become close and you're privy to most of the details of my life now, you can call me that. It's alright, you know. I won’t hold it against you.”

“You know that is not going to happen. We’ve gone over this.”

“Fine, fine,” he insisted. “One day you’re going to slip up and it’s going to be hilarious.”

Immediately, Olivia pointed her finger. “Stop flirting with me.”

“Flirting?”

Watching his eyebrows knit, feigning confusion, Olivia smiled and confirmed, “Yes. That’s what you’re doing, right?”

President Grant winked as she closed the door. “Just lightening the mood before dinner, Miss Pope.”

“Well,” she began, but twisted her lips to counteract the muscles that wanted to push into a smile. “It's working.” 

“Shall we?”

The two took a private elevator to the pavilion that was tucked away from any visitors or intruders. Olivia watched two of his agents find their posts, guarding the premise. He must have wanted it to be as lowkey as possible, because he knew that she was anxious. 

“I asked the executive chef to prepare a little something for us.”

Olivia grinned, tipping her sunglasses on. The view was simply gorgeous, on the other side of the hotel. She had been so busy working, there was no time to wander. President Grant was able to secure the pavilion in no time. Before she knew it, the executive chef, Giancarlo, and one other server, arrived with antipasti.. 

“This is so exquisite.”

President Grant leaned in, “I only ask for the best.  Giancarlo, please make sure my guys get all that they want, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Olivia waited for the staff to move on before she commented, “That was nice.”

The President looked surprised as he adjusted the napkin on his lap. “Really? I thought was the norm. They protect me. I have to take care of them. It’s a vicious cycle. I need to stay on their good side.”

“True.”

“To a wonderful friendship and a minimum amount of stress,” President Grant toasted, lifting his glass. 

Mirroring his gesture, she replied, “Here, here,”

They tipped their glasses, then began to drink.  She didn’t take her eyes off of him, and neither did he.  So much could be said with a meaningful glance. But no one spoke up until Giancarlo returned with the main course of pasta, vegetables, chicken, and ginormous meatballs.  

“You're separated?”

“Yes. That's why I talked to her. It didn’t seem like a long time to discuss, but we were very succinct with our goals. Mellie realized that I’m not willing to keep going with this façade.  I’ll have to meet with her when I return to Washington. It won’t be easy, but I need this to happen.”

Olivia kept her lips pursed. That was all fine and dandy, but she hadn’t been notified. That was her job - to do this. To map out this journey.  

“We didn't go over this.” 

“I'm telling you now.”

“That doesn’t cut it.” 

“Olivia,” he interjected, “This is all new. I haven’t informed Cy, or anyone. You’re the first one. I trust you completely.”

Nursing her glass, she asked, “How do you want to move forward?”

“I want to be as honest as possible. But still offer my best as the President.” 

His reply was genuine, but very naive. That was the reason why so many loved him. He had a hopeful spirit that was relatable. But Olivia had to be the voice of reason, the devil’s advocate. 

“You know that the media will go back to your indiscretion, right? Pull apart every detail and misguided step.”

President Grant slowly nodded, leaning back in his seat. “Of course. Mellie and I had a good game going, but what I did was the biggest red flag. I was stupid, I know. But we were in trouble long before that.”

Olivia twirled the pasta before taking a bite. Waiting to finish, she pondered all options.

“Okay. I’ll draft a release on the flight back.”

“I don’t want you working too hard. You’ll need your rest.”

Not wanting to be shut down, Olivia added, “On the contrary, Mr. President, I need to have everything in motion by the time we land.”

After their last course of delectable gelato, Olivia suggested a reasonable timeline. As soon as they returned, he and Melle would take more photos, and offer another joint statement in three weeks. 

“Why three?”

“Wiggle room. We need enough time to cushion your statement and the actual event. Also, it gives Mellie enough time to get her things in order. It will be just as hard for her, even harder. So unless you pick a fight, we need to be cordial with this. Being proactive, instead of reactive. Do you have special bills to sign? Or any other appearances that could offset this development?”

The President stopped to think. “There is some legislative I’m trying to get Congress to pass. I’ll work harder. Then, I’m traveling to the Midwest in a few weeks. Oh boy, this will be interesting. I can ask Cyrus and others if there are local projects or anything in California to push to the forefront.”

“Good.”

“I like how you think.”

Olivia didn’t mind hearing the approval but she played it off. “It’s typical protocol. We’re changing the narrative. Redirecting the media’s attention. Even for a little while. Using your job as a deflection. It may seem tacky but it’s always helpful.”

“So,” President Grant began, “when this has run its course, we’ll be done?”

With a curt shrug, she replied, “The tide will definitely change by then. Our goal is to have you looking better at the end. Your responsibility is to stay on course, don’t waver, do your job, and I’ll take care of the rest. Depending on the response, it can be a quicker transition. You can move on, but not too fast. Remember, you want the public to still appreciate you and not look at you in contempt. They need to think that it was a mutual dissolve.”

“Okay.”

Olivia took another swig of her wine. It was a lot of information to share. She could feel the heaviness, this was a big step for him. 

“Alright, enough about work.”

“Hmm?”

Olivia felt the President’s glance- a crooked smile- and tried not to shudder. 

“I didn’t want to bog you down with my life. We should enjoy ourselves. Last night in Rome.”

“Another round of 21 questions?” 

Without thinking, she twisted her new ring. 

President Grant asked, “Do you like it? Does it feel alright? I can have them resize it.” 

“Yes and yes. Just a habit of mine.” 

“Good.”

“I don't understand why you gave me this to me,” Olivia chuckled. “I don’t deserve this.”

She heard his chair scoot over, a little closer than she prefered. President Grant softly explained, “Because I wanted to and when I saw the ring in the display, it screamed ‘Liv’. I just had to get it for you.”  

“Thank you.”. 

“It can be whatever you want it to be. It’s a gift. No questions asked.” 

Olivia’s throat was drying. He was being extremely kind to her and she didn’t know how to handle it. 

“Mr. President.”

“You’re giving me a second chance, Liv. I don’t know how else I could express how I feel.” 

“Sir,” one of the agents interrupted, “We need to be heading back.”

President Grant nodded in deference. “Sounds good. Let me walk Olivia back to her room.”

They talked Giancarlo for a great evening and made their way back inside. Their ascent to Olivia’s floor was quiet.  She kept her eyes on the numbers above, lighting up so slowly. 

“This was very nice,” she commented, reaching for her key. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad. Maybe we can have these kind of dinners in the future.”

Olivia looked back to see his eyes. Was he just bullshitting or did meant what he said. She was still good at catching intent.

“Perhaps, once we get past this.”

The President tilted his head. “Really?”

“I think so. Goodnight, Mr. President.”

All Olivia could do was gasp when he took her hand, squeezed it a little. He didn’t seem to want to let her go. She didn't want him to leave either.

“Good night, Liv.”

Olivia watched him return to the elevator. That’s when she knew that her life had officially turned upside down.

* * *

The flight back to Washington was uneventful. Olivia pushed all the downtime with the President to the back of her mind, and returned to her no-nonsense ways. It was going to take a lot of intelligent planning to turn this potential disaster into a soft blow for everyone involved. Finding a way to keep the President in the good graces of the people, as well as not decimate Mellie. An intense balancing act. 

Olivia made herself scarce, submerging herself into work. Returning to OPA, catching up on everything her team had done, as well as getting her game plan going for the President. The timeline she presented was bold, but he liked it. He had been agreeing with everything she had suggested. It was odd, because she assumed there had to be some pushback, but since he said he trusted her, she went along with it. 

She was blatantly avoiding his calls. Whenever he called her cell, she let the phone ring, but turned around to speak to Cyrus and Rob. She couldn’t see him. Not now. She had to get her feelings in check. She wasn't going to sabotage him or herself. I t was only a matter of time when the dodging would have to stop. A week had passed since the trip and Olivia was asked to visit the Oval Office. Stopping by her temporary room, she paced herself to arrive. Usually it took twenty seconds to reach Lauren's desk. Olivia got there in fifty. 

When she approached, the door was ajar.  The President was on the phone, with his chair angled towards the window. His shoulders were slumped, but his voice was still clear and powerful. 

“I wanted to call you to let you know that I am divorcing Mellie. It may seem like a shock, but it’s for the best. I'm tired of being someone I'm not and it's time. It's just not working out anymore. I need to finish my term, with a reason to continue. Not drag my feet. I hope you understand. I'll talk to you soon. Goodbye.” 

Olivia winced, guilty to be an intruder, and tried to step back. 

“It’s okay, Liv.”

It was amazing that he knew she was there. Olivia walked in, crossing the threshold, but remained distant. President Grant swiveled his chair to greet her.   His eyes looked very sad. 

“Hi.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. President. You wanted to see me?”

“I haven’t seen you.”

Olivia wasn't expecting this. Clearing her throat, she replied,  “I didn’t realize having daily face-to-face visits was part of the contract. I apologize but I can’t neglect my people or my business.”

“I know,” he answered regretfully. “But I wanted to speak with you. To get caught up.”

“I contacted Cyrus and Rob, who in turned, briefed you. You were aware of all updates.”

“Liv.”

“Mr. President,” her voice became firm and a little colder. “Who were you on the phone with?” Her inquiry prompted a switch in conversation.

“I left a message with my father. Letting him know about what’s going to happen.”

“Cyrus and Rob briefed me about Mellie.” 

Olivia watched the Commander in Chief become tense, like he had when they first met.

“Yes, she will be moving to Blair House, until everything runs its course. They’re already packing her things. She mentioned about finding a condo in Georgetown, maybe Roselyn, or Alexandria. But I’m also aware she’ll most likely want to have an interview. Turn my name into dirt, make my job even harder.” 

“I’m sorry. This is going to be very difficult.” 

“It’s alright,” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But you know what?” 

Olivia waited for him to respond.  

“This means I’ll have a life I can call my own again. Well, to a degree. I knew what I was getting myself into. I still wish I had enough courage to end this sooner. Save a lot of people from the pain."

"Do you still love her?"

The President stared at Olivia. "I do. But I'm not in love with her."

That was all she needed to hear - again. She thought maybe his mind had changed since they talked about his relationship with Mellie. It was a seflish sigh of relief. 

Olivia squeezed her purse handles, then asked, “Is there anyone else you need to notify before the word gets out?” 

The President twisted his lips as he contemplated. “I think that's it. Push it through, Liv.” 

With a nod, she headed for the door. 

“Olivia?”

“Yes, Mr. President?” 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?”

“For handling this with grace and confidence. This was a big undertaking, that didn’t just affect me. I know this isn't easy and I appreciate you.” 

Olivia gave a quick smile. “You're welcome.” 

Speed dialing Rob on her cell, she gave him the go-ahead.

“He’s ready.”

“Shit.”

“I know,” she agreed. “But he’s set on this happening.”

“What’s your plan?”

“Let’s send it over to BNC. Who do you all have?”

“Kimberly.”

Olivia deadpanned. “Have anyone else?”

“What’s wrong with Mitchell?”

“She hasn’t been as cooperative if I’m on board for anything,” Olivia admitted. It was a long backstory that didn’t need to be repeated at the time. “Or what about that new guy -- he’s at the desk.”

“Noah Baker.”

“Let’s give him a job.”

“Kimberly knows him. She interviewed him and Mellie after the baby.”

“Who interviewed him after the affair?”

Rob answered quickly, “Kimberly.”

“Damn,” she muttered. “You’re right. We’ll need a empathetic touch. She’ll know which buttons to  _ not  _ push.”

“It may be for the best, Olivia, to just go with her, so it won’t blow up in our faces.”

“Give me 5, I’ll ask him.”

Olivia raced to her office phone, switching lines and called Lauren. 

“Miss Pope?”

“Does the President have a moment?”

She waited for the line to pick up. 

“Liv, you could have come over.”

“Who do you want to break the news?”

“What?”

“On BNC.”

“I don’t know. I guess Kimberly.”

“Okay.”

“Is it?”

Olivia brushed him off, “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.”

“Liv?”

“What?”

“I can tell you’re not pleased.”

Shaking her head, she decided to placate.  “I had something else in mind but this is about you. I need you to feel comfortable because you will be asked to talk.”

The President sighed.  “Of course. Work your magic.”

“Thank you.”

Olivia hung up, inwardly cursed herself for allowing her emotions to spill. Now she had to make do with what she had. Her fingers went to work, scribbling a new prompt, and she resumed her conversation with Rob. 

“Yes, let it cross her desk at 7:50. Ten minutes to prep. We need to be ready at the top of the hour. Then, it will run all day. All hands on deck - make sure you have enough to eat or drink, because you will be going at full-force. You or Zachary will need to be ready to speak at 11:30. Then, we can possibly run some footage of him. Doing something normal, or not as shaken up. Then he can work on something else. We will also need to find out who’s representing Mellie. I will get my team to find out.” 

“Will you be here?”

Olivia couldn’t imagine being in the building when the news dropped. “Absolutely not. I’ll be working from my office. But my cell will be on. It’s in your hands now. I’ve given you all the tools, Rob.”

“Alright.”

“Let’s get it done.”

Olivia hung up after giving her marching orders, took a long breath. 

This was going to be one hell of a ride. 

* * *

“Liv. Liv.  _ Liv! _ ”

There wasn't enough caffeine in her system to drown out the noise heard down the hall. It had been a late night sending all types of scripts, adding more dates to the timeline, plus other work that needed to be addressed. Olivia grunted as she rose from her seat. She marched into the main space. Agitated, she barked. “What is it?”

Abby was frozen in shock. Harrison pointed at the big screen with the remote. 

_ President Fitzgerald Grant III has filed for divorce. _

Her pupils grew and goosebumps covered her arms. Her heart was beating fast. Four weeks. It felt like the longest month ever since she was at Georgetown, waiting to see if she had passed the Bar. The moment they all had been waiting for, had come to fruition. It wasn’t too big of a surprise, but the actual visual crossing her eyes, was a palpable moment. She felt like an anxious director, standing in the back of the theatre, awaiting the curtain’s rise. 

“Okay then. So we’re off. Be ready to receive any calls from anyone. Press, TMZ, doesn't matter. Just be prepared.  It will probably be publicized that I am on board for this. In that case, refer all calls to Robert Keller, White House communications director. Got it?”

Abby nodded. Harrison gave his quick salute, a series of “Yes”’ from Quinn. Huck pivoted back to his room, ready to work again, which entailed all sorts of sneaky doings. 

Olivia retreated to the office. Now, she had to determine where she would go from here. Knowing she and her team had the President's future in their hands, it would be a crazy 48 hours. 

But she had to be honest with herself: this job itself wasn’t stressing her out.  It was her connection with the President. They had become closer, toeing the line between client and representative and “friends”.  She didn’t let people get too close; having the luxury to fall back on her work to disguise what she wanted and needed in her life. Fitzgerald Grant found a crevice in her heart and psyche, and she allowed him to stay there. 

With that said, he was still married. She was in no place to be dating anyone, let alone, entertain the thought of any kind of relationship with him. Now that he had filed, he was becoming more and more available. And she was entering a phase when she was falling more and more for him. But what about her life? Her business? The people who depended on her? She didn’t want to be that type of person who was attracted to someone she couldn’t have. 

“Are you okay?”

Olivia shot her head from her desk, to find Harrison standing in front of her. 

“Just tired. I wasn’t expecting this to get so complicated, this quickly, on such a high scale.”

Harrison was understanding, but still stoic in posture. Hands firmly set on his hips, he was evaluating the well-being of his boss and friend. “I bet. But you’re doing a great job, Liv. That’s why they hired you. I’ll get you a tea, if you’d like.” 

Olivia nodded in gratitude. “Thanks. Everything will work out.”

After Harrison left, Olivia opened her laptop, to check her email. So far, nothing outlandish had appeared in her messages. But as if the universe wanted her to stay busy, her office line began to ring. It repeated over and over again. As soon as one call ended, another came through.  More calls from Cyrus, Rob, and some members of the press. Even Kimberly Mitchell finagled her way into Olivia’s inbox. 

Three hours into damage control, her cell phone buzzed. An unlisted number. 

“This is Olivia Pope.”

“Hi.”

That voice again. It soothed her mind immediately.  _Damn._

“Why are you calling?”

“No hi in return?”

“This isn’t the time," she reprimanded, accepting her new cup of tea.

“Did you see the news?”

Olivia replied in a hushed tone, “Of course. That’s my job, to keep an eye on anything my client may be involved.”

“Ahh, touché.”

“How may I help you?”

"I wanted to let you know that Mellie is going to fight."

"We already knew that."

"But she isn't go to back down. I know she'll use all of her resources."

Olivia promptly answered, "And we'll be ready to fight back, with class."

"Wow, you impress me, Olivia Pope."

"That's why we're here. To do the dirty work while you focus on what you need to do."

"When this is over," President Grant began, "if you'll allow, I would like to take you out."

Olivia snapped her mouth shut. He chuckled.

"I knew you'd do that."

"Mr. President--"

"Fitz."

"Mr. President."

"Oh, for the love of God. We're past this Mr. President crap. You know me. I'm not a stranger."

"I can't."

"Olivia. Please." 

What would happen if she did what he requested? All bets would be off. There was no turning back. The formalities gone. 

Her lips moved but nothing came out. Then, like a miracle from above, her brain connected with her stubborn tongue and her voice uttered the word that he had belonging to hear. 

"Fitz."

 


	6. Chapter 6

As she let the word fall from her lips, Olivia could feel her heart drop, throat go dry, and pulse quicken. She was failing at keeping work and private life separate. But why have turmoil over it? A nickname that was only used by individuals who had backstories, maybe reaching back to childhood, and were not employed by this man.  If she was part of this elect group, it wouldn't have matter and no length of time would be wasted.  But she crossed that line. Where the mention of using the shortened version of his given name knocked all remnants of professionalism to the ground.  In a moment of weakness or maybe a feat of independence and strength, Olivia made the choice.

_Fitz._

She could hear a sigh in her ear, like a delicate layer has been ripped off.

“Best news I’ve heard all day.”

“What,” she scoffed.

The President wanted to clarify. “You have made me extremely happy. Hearing you call me by my actual name, was something I’ve been hoping you would do for weeks. That means you see me for me. Not just my title.”

That’s why he was pushing so hard for this, she thought.

“What are you thinking about?”

Olivia realized she had been silent for longer than she had hoped for.

“I should be getting back to work.”

The hole was becoming deeper; she was temporarily vulnerable.

“Liv?”

“Yes, Fitz?”

Her breath hitched; it wasn’t a mistake, but like she almost got caught for slipping out a curse. Opening Pandora’s box, while electricity moved through her veins. The sensation in her chest that escalated into a messy union of confusion and desire. Olivia Pope did not care for the butterflies that one feels whenever a person crosses a path that turns everything upside down. 

“Am I making you nervous?”

“Stop it.”

“What?”

Her voice grew sharper. “We can’t do this.”

“Are your people there?”

“No, I’m in my office.”

“Olivia, I am not pressuring you to do anything. I consider you to be a friend of mine and it’s nice to talk to someone who won’t judge me.”

“Is that all you wanted to talk about right now? Because I’m sure my line and my cell will be ringing off the hook and I need to be able to answer.”

Her patience was wearing thin. There was no room for error when so much was at stake. After meeting so many people since she graduated from law school, including men who had everything to give her, she made sure that no one was going to steal her heart, and he was doing the very thing she was avoiding. Doing everything in his power to make her fall in love with him.  His patience, the way he looked at her. The uncanny talent of charm that almost knocked her off balance. Being a good listener. Making her smile. Being the one she’d think of at night, when she was alone.

“Very well.”

“But,” she added, “If anything comes up and you need to talk, you may call my cell phone. Only my cellphone.”

That was her code for _call me later._

“That sounds like a plan.”

“Have a good evening, Mr. Pres—,”  Pausing, Olivia’s lips twitched into a quick smile. “Fitz.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Olivia.”

When she disconnected the call, Olivia smiled to herself.  The rest of the day could fall in line because of the conversation she just had. Mr. President had now become Fitz. They were making progress.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Shit! Abbs!” Olivia screeched, clutching her necklace. A beat passed before she could open her eyes, recovering from the shock of being intruded upon. Abby was inside, with a bewildered expression. There must have been a connection between the phone call and the glossy, dreamy look on her face. Instead of answering the initial question, Olivia stammered, “What are you doing here? You startled me.”

“Sorry,” Abby walked forward to the desk. “But I knocked on your door and you didn’t answer.”

Olivia pinched the bridge of her nose, deeply annoyed with herself. “What’s up?”

“Two messages from ABC, the Post, and New York Times, requesting comments from the formidable Olivia C. Pope, and any statements from the President.”

“Perfect, as expected. I knew they’d find us and we will be ready to give ‘no comments’ and whatever the White House wants. Let’s get everyone in the conference and divvy up tasks.”

Abby nodded.

And with that staccato-like drill, Olivia was back on. The guard was back up and any cutesy thoughts about Fitz, would have to wait until after work.

* * *

Only having enough time to drive home, squeeze out five hours of sleep, shower, brew a large cup of coffee, and change into a navy blue suit and white pumps, Olivia was awake, in her SUV,  prepared to start this routine all over again.  There were four new cases for the firm, and she couldn’t focus on any of them. Making quick notes to email to Abby and Harrison, only to forget about them as she turned into the lot where she was directed to park.

The sun had finally risen when she arrived, being one of the first visitors for the day. Giving an extra cup of coffee and pastry for Morris, Olivia made her way into the building. The halls were nearly empty when she walked to her temporary office. With a huge briefcase, stuffed with folders, and three newspapers, she worked until her 8am debriefing in the Oval, so she could leave afterwards, and focus back on her real work. Fixing everyone’s problems.

But when she passed the secretary’s desk, Olivia could sense something _different_.

Would she be able to keep a straight face when she'd see him? One of the reasons why she couldn't fall asleep - she was waiting for him to call. The phone on her nightstand, screen still dark. Trying to pretend that it didn't matter. Of course, it did. She couldn't tell anyone, it was such a secret that she couldn't bear to reveal. 

But as her eyelids drooped and her hand began to massage the places that ached and emanated with heat, she dreamt of him. Probably in the worse way possible. Feeling guilty for allowing her mind to go there, but she had needs like everyone else. The wordplay, the body language, the glances that could unravel. She was counting down the days. 

It all had to dissipate when she entered the Oval Office. Switching her desires off, the gladiator within was ready to dominate.

“Good morning, gentlemen. What do we have?”

Rob Keller handed folders to Olivia, Cyrus, and the President. “Received word that Mrs. Grant has completely moved out to Blair House, hired one of the best national lawyers, and her own publicist. Word is getting around that she’s going to have an interview tomorrow night on BNC or FOX, at the latest. We have not been able to confirm if she will travel to Santa Monica, or even further south for some time. Reporters are staked out at both residences.”

“This is expected,” Cyrus interjected. “She will go where she is comfortable. Maybe Kimberly; or one of the savvy daytime journalists she was able to schmooze with during State and Correspondence Dinners.”

“Wait a minute,” Olivia scrolled on her phone, which was pinging excessively. “A statement.”

_From the desk of Mrs. Melody Margaret Grant — It is with great sadness that I confirm President Grant’s announcement of divorce. The President and I have endured many trials and gained many victories during our 10-year marriage. Being the strong, independent people that we are, we did not always see eye to eye, but I always believed in the power of love and partnership. As much as it came as a shock to personally receive the news, I stayed committed to saving my marriage through counseling sessions and inner reflections. In the event that we are not able to come to an agreement and have exhausted all options, I will prayerfully consider a return to serve the American people in law or in politics. It has been an honor to serve as your First Lady. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I move forward on this journey._

Olivia watched for the reactions: Cyrus sucked his teeth, Rob’s eyes moved side to side like an old-school cat clock, and the President remained still.

“What do we make of this?”

Cyrus leaned forward; she knew he was about to give his two cents. “She’s getting all the formalities and niceties out the way. I’m sure she’s going to drop a bomb in whatever interview she gets.”

Rob agreed, pacing the floor. “Probably mention the affair and imply the President continues to have a wandering eye”

“Okay, but how does that make her look,” Cyrus argued. “A bitter woman who will drag out this process. That is low and just like her to make it all about herself.”

Olivia crossed her arms, turning to the President, who clearly looked disinterested.  “Who have you hired for a divorce lawyer?”

Cyrus answered, “Philip Morganstein. You might know him, Liv. He’s from New York. Smart, quick, tenacious.”

“Good.”

“Of course she’ll keep the name. That’s all everyone knows her as. A Grant. If she doesn’t plan to ride his coattails. She has nothing without him.”

“That’s probably not true,” Olivia lowered her pen, mid-note taking. “But let’s refocus on how to eliminate any blowback. How are we going to respond not if, but when she creates drama, and lists all the cons.”

“She wants to tell her story, before the President.”

“We need to prepare, be ready to counter her claims, if anything she says will give the President bad press… Remember, he has a few events to attend and he can put the attention on that.”

“I don’t think she should be doing this.”

“Why is that?”

Rob adjusted his reading glasses, shaking his head. “This will not look good for her, if she expects to pursue a public career after this. I’m surprised her people are giving this advice.”

“It’s fine.”

Everyone turned to the voice in the corner.  It was the first time the President spoke during the meeting.

“Sir?”

“I’m all for it. I want this to be done. Whatever she wants. Get a step ahead so she can live her own life now.”

“I doubt that, sir. She could ruin you.”

“Okay.”

“ _No,”_  Cyrus declared, lifting his hands in refusal. “That’s not acceptable. You have your legacy to protect. There is so much work to be done, sir.”

“That will be all.”

When Fitzgerald Grant III gave his dismissal, his words were clear. His foot stopped shaking, and jaw clenched. Olivia noticed in the month they had been in the same room; she knew when he zoned out of a conversation.

All rose.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Rob said, “if you need anything, call us.”

Olivia watched _him_ nod before she collected her items, following the others.

“Miss Pope, a word?”

The seriousness of his request shot down her spine. After giving her colleagues a reassuring comment about meeting in 20 minutes, Olivia kept her eyes on the ground as they exited. When the door closed, she could feel him moving closer. She kept her cool before meeting his gaze.

“I do not want anyone to intercept Mellie’s plans.”

Olivia titled her head slightly, confused. “May I ask why?”

“Like I said to Cyrus and Rob before you came, I want this to be resolved,” he declared. “I’m not budging, she will see that. Nothing she will do is going to change my mind. I want a divorce. She can say whatever she wants, make a fuss, badmouth me. But I’m ready to get my life back.”

It seemed as if he was relenting to his future ex-wife’s desires. Olivia didn’t approve of giving up, using every trick in the book, before backing down. That was _if_ she backed down.

“Okay.”

“Promise me you won’t interfere.”

She knew he was giving her a hard time. With a sigh, Olivia replied, “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

She watched for his eyes. Back to his genuine self; with a hint of playfulness. There had to be an ulterior motive, a catch that would slip up the First Lady.

“You’re second guessing me.”

Olivia’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “With all respect, Mr. President, this doesn’t seem like you.”

“I know what I want,” his baritone voice confidently replied. “Being divorced will give both of us the freedom we want. She doesn’t have to be ornamental, which she hated with a fucking passion. She can implement whatever agenda she has, create her own legacy.”

“And you? Have you thought about what you want?”

Surprisingly, President Grant smirked, turning away from Olivia, and strolling towards the back of his desk. Olivia didn’t understand why he ignored the question and why he was looking aimlessly out the window.

Then, he turned, mouthing, “C’mere.”

Olivia slowly followed his path. He kept curling his finger, so she inched closer, until they were against the heavy drapes.

“What?”

“You.”

“Me what?”

She watched the sides of his mouth lift as he smiled. He was so much taller than her, even with her four inch heels. She felt so small. But in a way, very protected. Like nothing could harm her if she was next to him. 

“I — I find you to be exquisite. I haven't been able to take my eyes off of you since Cyrus brought you here.”

Olivia scanned his mannerisms. Was there something she was missing? Five minutes earlier, they were discussing tactics, reading files, being professional. Now, his voice faltered, and the confidence he exuded in Italy and France, had fallen away. 

“Fitz.”

“I like you. You are amazing and I want to get to know you better outside of work. If you would let me. I’ll tell you everyday if I need to.”

Olivia couldn’t latch on to his sweet words, because she was extremely nervous. “The cameras will catch us. I don’t want them to pick it up.”

“That's why we're standing here. We’re out of sight,” he replied, not phased by her concern. “I didn't want you to get into trouble but I needed to talk to you.”

Olivia’s pulse began to race; glaring at the door, she whispered, “But someone could walk in at any moment.”

“What, are you ashamed of me now?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I just want us to have a conversation.”

“Okay, so what do you want to talk about,” she asked, hoping the tension would go away. She was great at deflecting, but he wasn't buying any part of it.

He didn’t answer and she had no clue what to do next. 

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I don't know.”

“Then stop. We need to get back to work.” Olivia turned on her heel and then he asked her to wait.  

“Hey. Olivia, please. Let's not think. You're not the fixer and I'm not the President. Let's be us.”

“I can't stay here for long. What if I get a call?”

“Just one minute. Please?”

She nodded and just stood there. Being a part of each other's energy. 

Watching his every move. His chest rose, eyes turning more blue. When she began to smile, so did he. 

It was the first time, in a long time, that she didn't feel stressed. 

"Thank you," he whispered. 

"Fitz," she breathed, closing her eyes. "I have to go."

"Okay."

The President sounded incredibly pitiful; she didn't want to leave. 

“Work needs to be done.”

“I know.”

“I told you. None of _this_ —,” she reprimanded, wagging her finger back and forth. The very finger that was adorned with the ring he gave— “Is happening until you’re single.”

"You're right. I'm going to respect that. I just wish... I had waited for you."

Olivia was already halfway across the room when he spoke. But she froze. "What?"

Sucking his teeth, he quietly stated, "I should have waited. To find you. I was a coward for settling."

"You're wrong."

“You see me.”

“We barely know each other.”

President Grant scoffed, "Liv, don't even go there. Don't belittle yourself. You do so much, in ways that you don't know.  You tell me exactly what I need to hear. Even when I don't want to. You cut through my bullshit. You're making me a better man.”

“Have you heard from Senator Lewis?”

"Yes."

“Good. Make sure that's all settled before the First Lady has her interview. People will double-down on questions as soon as you walk out that door.”

"Did I do something wrong," he asked. 

Olivia pursed her lips; her eyes widened, but she shook her head. 

"Please, I need to know. I don't want you to be angry with me."

“You didn’t call last night."

The admission made him smile and she began to blush. It was so embarrassing, to be waiting like a schoolgirl. 

“I didn’t want to bother you," he responded, walking to the door, meeting her, returning to her good graces. "I'll call you later, if you'd like."

Olivia glanced down. "I would like that. And we can talk. Like regular people. Friends."

"Good friends."

Rolling her eyes because she heard the particular tone in his voice, she opened the door. "Goodbye."

"See ya."

* * *

 

Mellie Grant booked the first televised interview, a week after the announcement. It was staged perfectly, in the best room in Blair House. Demonstrating her Southern charm, the genteel manners, and an equal panache for power, she explained why the marriage was flawed, there were deep issues that couldn’t be resolved. The death of the baby, the President’s indiscretions. Her willingness to stay faithful to be a good example to the people. But also, finding strength to carry on when there was nothing left to be done.

Olivia watched the interview at home, with a glass of water, instead of wine. Furiously taking notes, so she and the team could fight back, but within reason, per the President's instructions. The First Lady was putting on a show. Not knowing every detail about this woman, Olivia could see and hear some of the truth being stretched.

The phone rang. It was a private number. Maybe it could be him, but she couldn't be so sure. So she let it ring. Four times. The middle of the fifth, she answered.

“Olivia Pope.”

“Hi.”

Olivia pressed the mute button. “What’s up?”

“Are you watching?”

“Mmhmm. Taking some notes.”

“Oh, snap.”

“Yes. It’s my job. I have to observe and prepare for the next step.”

Hearing him laugh excited her. "I appreciate it. So, I was thinking, Liv. Let's get the interview going. I would like to say my peace."

"You didn't even finish watching."

"Why should I?"

"You have to be in the know. She could pull a stunt that you aren't expecting."

"Liv," he reminded, "I've known Mellie for over 10 years. She is playing a part so her ass isn't on the line. She wants to finish on top. I don't need to be reminded of how our love life turned to shit."

Taking a moment to contemplate, but also not wanting to laugh at his sharp comment, all she could think to say was, "Alright."

"Sorry for my candor."

Olivia wrote down a list, already thinking of ways to get the ball rolling. "I will work on this."

His reply was sweet, his voice sounding softer than usual. It warmed her heart and made her ears rise in amusement.

“You’re welcome.”

"Are you going to sleep soon?"

Olivia stretched her legs, feeling the ache of sitting down for longer than she should have. "Probably. I'm exhausted."

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I'll let you go."

"No. I mean, you don't have to." 

Olivia squeezed her eyes, knowing she sounded so desperate. 

"I can't be blamed for any missed work."

"Funny."

"I try."

A giggle escaped her lips. 

"You don't have a boyfriend, do you?"

"I don't date."

"Huh?"

Olivia waited to respond. "Gotcha. I'm single. I just don't have time and when I have, it's never ended well."

Hearing him sigh, made her feel a little uneasy.

"I'll ask you about this later."

"Fitz," she added. "It's not that deep. I don't know if I'm made for relationships."

"Anything's possible. Everyone deserves second chances."

* * *

“Miss Pope? Kimberly Mitchell wants to talk with you.”

They waited five days. Enough time for Mellie's interview to get enough play and fizzle out. Then, adding time for Fitz to travel, create good attention, before returning to Washington, and prepare for another huge heart-to-heart.

Taking her folder and cell, Olivia left to find the woman who would change the whole game. During her time working with other politicians, she had crossed paths with Kimberly. An ally of sorts, or a complete pain in the ass, depending on the day.

“Miss Mitchell, thank you for coming.”

“No need for formalities, Liv,” the brunette smiled. “Just because we’re meeting here, doesn’t mean we have to take five steps back in our relationship. I should have known that you would be involved.”

“Oh?” Faking a smile, Olivia waited for an answer.

“Yes. We were all guessing who the White House could possibly hire to deal with this mess.”

Olivia crossed her arms, not amused by any of the reindeer games. 

“Don’t be offended, it’s great. The First Lady is going to strike and strike hard. She won’t go down without a fight, Olivia, and you know it.  President Grant needs all the help he can get. You work miracles.”

As soon as he returned, President Grant and Olivia worked on a mock interview, going back and forth with hypothetical questions, adding on to particular quotes from Mellie. It was interesting that he did not want to meet with anyone else, only wanting to speak with Olivia. There were a few raised eyebrows from Cyrus and others, but they knew Olivia was the best person to get him ready for this.

“Just do your best, do exactly what we've talked about. And if anything goes awry, you give me a look and I'll stop everything."

Breathing deeply, the President waited for Olivia to straighten his tie. They were in a side room, going over last minute changes. 

"Is it okay?"

"Yeah, I'm the one who told you to wear this," Olivia joked. Then she moved to his jacket, smoothing out any proverbial wrinkles. She was calming herself down as well, keeping busy with her hands. 

"You'll be great. Got it?"

"Got it."

President Grant leaned down to kiss her cheek, before walking out of the hidden corner and meeting with Kimberly. 

The two shook hands. 

“Thank you for meeting with me.”

Olivia leaned against the wall, with her phone glued to her hand. Her face was relaxed, but her lips formed in a slight “O”. Already, there was much to think over.

She, Rob, and the President decided that he would wear a black suit, light blue Oxford, and dark tie. Long leg crossed over the other, Hands tucked in front. Looking even more handsome than the Italy trip.

Kimberly gave her introduction, emphasizing the gross magnitude of an exclusive conversation.

“So, Mr. President, as you reach the midway point of your term. Why? Why now?”

Olivia took a deep breath, hoping for the best, and preparing for the worst. 

“Kimberly, there comes a time when you wake up, and realize that the life you’re living isn’t the best. I know it isn’t the best timing, but my heart was telling me that this was right.”

“Do you believe what happened to your family affected your marriage?”

President Grant revealed, “The loss of our son — Tommy — and my mother, was the most painful experience of my life. I was broken. I struggled with depression but did my best to shake it off so I could do my job. Mellie stood by and we supported each other during this time. But every situation can take a toll. Sometimes you move so fast with goals in mind, you lose sight of what’s important. I can only speak for myself: I did not commit to my marriage as I should have, and there is nothing wrong with deciding to move on.”

Kimberly politely smiled. “So what you’re saying is that you gave up?”

“You can love someone and not be  _in_ love with that person.”

That would be a nugget that would be replayed and analyzed for weeks to come.

“There will be citizens who will deem you to be a failure. The base that supported you — historically condemns the disintegration of marriage. There was the lull of support during your encounter with a former White House staffer. It seemed like it wasn't too long ago and now this. How will you regain their trust?”

“Honestly, Kimberly, I do not have the answer.”

Olivia rolled her eyes; why would he even say that? It made him look ignorant of the facts. He cheated on his wife, fell into his safety net of privilege, being able to push the dirt aside, and remain a powerful figure in the world. She crossed her arms and stared at the President.

“What about women? They saw you as a doting husband, someone who was faithful. But that all changed. So how can they believe you when you are handed legislature, specifically having women in mind? Or will you shift towards male-driven agendas? Turning the base around and going into another direction.”

His eyes narrowed. Olivia pinpointed that expression; there was discomfort. Something was going left field. The host needed to tread lightly or there would be no interview. Olivia would shut it down in a second. 

“Kimberly…”

With a nod, Kimberly requested a five minute break. The makeup artist scurried over to retouch both host and guest’s face. They locked eyes, he wanted her to come over.

“You’re doing fine, scale back the eyebrows. It's reading like you'll explode at any minute.”

“I know.”

“If she’s trying to steer you into an answer you don’t like, detour.”

“Mmhmm.”

Olivia mumbled, “You got this. You won this election, the people just need to see the real you. Show that you're human like everyone else, but you're willing to make changes. Start fresh.”

Fitz squeezed Olivia's hand, which surprised her tremendously. "Okay." She couldn't breathe, lost in his gaze, and somehow she was able to center him. For a dynamic to be so powerful and not reaching the height of physicality, they were on a different level. It was palatable. There was no doubt that someone in the room was watching. Olivia was inching that forbidden line, and she needed to pull herself together. 

“And we’re back in five, four, three…”

Thankful for the interruption, Olivia pulled her hand from his grasp, scurrying to the corner, acting like nothing had happened, but locking the vivid sensation of his touch in her mind.

“Mr. President, there must be a way to make amends, and still lead this nation, that's still full of family values.”

“I have been honest in the past. I would hope that the citizens of our nation, will be able to wait. To give Mellie and I the time we need. To allow us to heal individually.  I plan to do everything in power to regain their trust and confidence in me.”

Olivia didn’t move, remaining focused on her client, the man of the hour. He spoke with ease, regaining the poise and charm that drew millions to him. As the interview concluded, she was confident that he would follow through with everything he had said. 

Including what he promised to her.


	7. Chapter 7

The interview went well, giving Olivia the win she desired. Rebounding from a less-than-stellar opening, Fitz was charming, informative, and decisive. He was not backing down. He wanted to finish his term strong, even as a potential divorcée. Olivia and Cyrus watched from the back, feeling confident that they'd have time to build up Fitz's case and allow the public to view him as a man of honor. A celebrity could hide away for a few months, staying busy with work and good intentions, to allow the blows of a breakup or scandal to fade away. But this was the President; his life was on display. He was the country's moral compass, but his humanity shone through. His fall from grace was sudden, but with her help, he could rise and regain strength.

After a quick goodbye, she went home. It had been a long and exhausting day. She didn't get a chance to call into OPA, to get updated. This project was taking over her life.

Olivia plopped down on the couch. Tired was an understatement of how she was feeling. She needed a massage, a bath, and anything to remove the tension from her body. But she had to work for a little bit longer. Just another hour, recapping the interview, and then she could shut everything down. Tuning into the main channels and waiting for the pundits to dissect each line, give their analysis.

The headlines gave her a sample of the response. A combination of acceptance and focus on the situation's drama.

_President Grant was humble enough to ask for forgiveness._

_His personal life is none of our business. His mission is to serve the people._

_It's the soap opera of the year and we are all about it._

Olivia knew it would be an interesting morning, but sleep was needed. Just as she was cleaning her papers, a text came in from that unlisted number.

_Thank you for everything, Liv._

She wanted to respond as soon as they message came in, but it was only an hour since she left. It would have been corny to text him back immediately. It was as if she was starved for his attention. Maybe she was...

_You're welcome._

_Can you talk?_

Olivia grabbed a few kernels of her meal of choice. Lightly salted and fluffy, it was the perfect comfort food. As she pondered, she considered her options. Stay up for a little while and hear his voice before falling asleep or declining and think about him too much, which would lead her to another night of insomnia.

_Yes. Call the main line._

It dawned on her that he was one of five people who had her home phone number. He must have been special because she never gave it to anyone. A few days after Italy, during a quick conversation, she wrote down her number on a slip of paper. Olivia felt like a middle schooler, scribbling digits with fancy fonts, handing off the boy in the back. That boy was a grown man - the most powerful man in the country.

A minute after, the phone rang.

"Mmhmm," she remarked lazily, pretending to not be affected.

"Hi."

Olivia sighed. "Hi."

"You did great."

"I wasn't the one on TV. You did well, Mr. President."

Fitz hummed with delight. "Only because of you."

Not willing to gloat, Olivia asked, "What's up?"

"Nothing."

Olivia raised her eyebrow. "That's why you called? Nothing?"

"Shooting the breeze. I want to talk to you. Just not about work, to be quite honest."

"I see," she answered. "Well, what would you like to discuss?"

"How are you?"

"I'm fine. Yourself?"

"Okay. Just chillin' and talking to this lovely lady I met about a month ago."

Olivia shook her head. "Wow... that sounds exciting."

"Have you eaten dinner?"

"Sort of."

"Like what?"

"I made popcorn."

"Olivia," he playfully reprimanded. "That's not well-balanced. I should have invited you over."

"Uh uh. I needed to get home. Being in heels all day is not fun. I'll be fine. Did you eat?"

"Yeah. Chicken with a side of mashed potatoes. Now I'm nursing a glass of Scotch. A nice way to end the night."

"Where are you?"

"The residence."

Olivia slowly nodded. "Okay, good. I would have bitched you out if you were in your office."

"Why is that?" She could picture the smirk on his face, ready to tease and challenge her.

"Because you needed to let the good people of the White House go home to their families."

"Well, I didn't stall after you left. I can't stand being in there if I don't have to."

"That's good. Wait," Olivia interrupted herself. "What?"

"I didn't think it would feel like a prison. You never receive enough advice to inform you of the solitary life here."

"Oh," she replied softly. Of course, she would try to connect with clients, empathize with them. But she knew all too well about this type of life. Being so focused on your work, your mission, that you don't always count the cost.

"Fitz?"

"Yeah."

"Why did you hold my hand?"

Fitz paused before asking, "What?"

"During the interview, you held my hand. In front of everyone."

"Was that bad," he asked. "Did everyone see? Proof?"

His taunts were making her blush and fully aware that her observations were a level higher than normal. "I don't think it was appropriate."

She heard Fitz stifle a laugh.

"What?"

"It took you a while to let go."

Olivia blurted out a response, "I was in shock."

That was the truth. How could she not resist being held by him? Even just a light touch. It was more than she had received.

Fitz chuckled, "Okay, Liv."

"Do you know what that would do? If anyone caught us?"

She was sure that he was not thinking clearly and found such humor in such a faux pas. So, she didn't respond.

"It would just prove what I've been saying to the American public, to my staff, to Mellie, to you."

"What is that," she questioned.

"I'm. Moving. On."

Olivia huffed, pacing the length of the couch. The cord wasn't long enough, she couldn't necessarily run, unless she wanted to hang up. The timeline was off. Her idea of what should be happening was being derailed.

"Liv?"

"What?"

"You don't have to come in tomorrow."

"Nonsense."

"You deserve a day off. I'm sorry I'm taking time away from your firm and I do not want you to feel burdened. I am sorry.."

"There's work to be done. You're my client and I have a team. They are wonderful and understanding. I need to get you your result. You told me what you wanted, correct?"

"Yes."

Olivia had switched into work mode. At 10pm - not ideal, but she was a workaholic. "Alright then. That's what we're doing."

"Have you ever been to Camp David?"

"No," she answered in a confused manner. Why would he be asking about the Maryland retreat at the weirdest time?

"Interesting," Fitz replied. "I might be going up for the weekend. To clear my head because this is getting ridiculous. Would you like to join us?"

"Who else is going?"

"Cyrus. Rob. Philip, my lawyer. Waiting to hear back from my friend, Andrew. We all need a break."

"I'm the only woman attending? That seems odd. What exactly would we be doing?"

"Relaxing. Maybe brainstorm if Mellie and her team do something funky. Just to get away."

Olivia walked to her room, still antsy by the invitation. There could be an advantage to going; being out of sight to learn more about the situation. Create more positive visuals, combat the oppo she and the team would find. But what if... downtime became the wrong time. There wouldn't be any distractions, exact barriers to forbid her from stepping over that line of professional and into the "fuck-it"I don't think so."

"You don't seem enthusiastic. Who do I need to bring along for you to feel comfortable?"

"That's your call. I will think about it." Olivia pinned the receiver against her shoulder. "Do your job. Let me do mine. And we'll be able to get to know each other more along the way."

"But what if I don't want to wait."

"You promised that you would. Do things a little differently than usual."

Fitz let out a dissatisfied groan. "Olivia, you're changing everything."

"Would love for you to come."

"Cool. What shows do you like to watch?"

Olivia wasn't expecting the shift. "Ummm...I tend to watch movies. It's easier to keep up with."

A pregnant pause. Hearing him breathing. What else was there to say? He wasn't like Stephen or Harrison, whom she could switch from business to crappy one-liners in a matter of seconds. She and Fitz hadn't reached that point yet. He wanted to, but she did not.

"Nice. So, maybe we can have a movie date."

"A date?"

"Yeah," Fitz answered. "Something funny or easygoing so we can just enjoy our evening. Some candles. Wine. I know how you like your red."

Olivia took a long sip. "You are correct."

"I'm keeping track, Liv."

"I have to go."

"Why?"

"It's been a long day and I need to get up early so I can take care of OPA business." It was a lie. Not convincing, but she had to get off the phone.

"I see you. You can take the day off. Rob and Cy can handle everything here."

It was rare for him to cut her off like that. She was sure that he had taken offense. "Fitz. That's not what I meant."

"Don't worry. I'll talk to you later. Okay?"

Too upset to return the sentiment, Olivia hung up. Wanting to socialize, but pressed to keep her distance and protect herself. Fear was holding her back from trying to cultivate a sensible friendship with the President of the United States. Because that's what they were - friends.

* * *

"Where did you get that ring?"

She had been in a fog, from the last few days, zoning in on the news cycles. The buzz surrounding the President's interview. But instead of one day, Olivia chose to stay away for a week, passing along information to Rob and Cyrus, allowing them be her mediators. Her last conversation with Fitz did not end on a high note and she didn't feel comfortable to reach out.

Startled, Olivia lifted her head to meet Abby's questioning gaze. All hands on deck in the conference room, scanning all the articles they could find on both interviews. Highlighting key statements, memorizing each line, and reviewing the tapes for facial expressions and body language.

"Hmm? What?"

Abby pointed. "The ring. On your finger. You never wear rings!"

Olivia glanced down, acknowledging the correct observation. Since college, she kept her hands bare. Just a preference. But she wasn't expecting someone to actually notice the details of her hands. Especially her team, who knew as much as anyone could know about her. What if he did too?

She hadn't taken it off in two weeks, minus showers and bedtime.

"Yeah, I got it in Paris."

Abby's cheeks rose. "You treated yourself? Perfect. It's about damn time."

"It was a gift."

Everyone stopped what they were doing, smiling and gasping. Olivia never revealed too much about her personal life. 

"From who? A long-lost love? A cute Parisian?"

Olivia rolled her eyes, but continued to organize notes of the day's agenda.  "It's just a memento. A gentleman who was very kind of enough to think of me and purchase something special for me."

"Something special," Abby swooned. "I like that."

Harrison finished his coffee. "That's right. You lived in Paris for… how many years, Liv?"

"Two," she hurried off with the factoid. "Off and on, when my mother spent time there for work."

"The design is intricate," Abby interjected, taking Olivia's hand, noticing the details.

"Doux Bébé."

"It has a name? Is that the style of ring?"

Mumbling into her paperwork, Olivia replied, "Just the title."

"What does it mean," Stephen asked. His eyes glowed, which let her know that there was more behind the little story.

Olivia stared back and plainly answered, "Sweet baby."

The quiet response seemed to echo off the walls. After the information she gave, she hoped no one caught the sentiment behind the ring's name.  

"Say, we never talked about your trip. How was it traveling on Air Force One? Any special treatment?"

"No," Olivia abruptly spoke. Moving to stick papers on the wall, she continued, "It was okay. I met some of the Press Corps that travels with him. It was nice to travel in such high regard."

"Anyway. What about the President? Did he treat you differently than the others? Is he nice? Nice for a Republican," Abby rattled off.

"He's decent," she replied, sounded non-committal. "I've been too focused on work to pay attention to how he treats me or whatever..."

Olivia's tone was harsher than usual, when speaking of a client. It had always been upbeat, borderline optimistic. But this time, this didn't sound right, but she kept a straight face, believing the others wouldn't read into the switch.

The group's reactions were priceless. Raised eyebrows, skeptical glances. They weren't believing what she said.

Harrison leaned on the table, looking into Olivia's eyes. "Will you be happy when this is over?"

"Absolutely. I'm ready to get back. I appreciate you all taking on more than is required. We're almost there."

"What if he asks you to work for him full-time?"

A ripple of "What"'s filled the room.

Stephen asked in his beautiful English accent, "Isn't there a saying, 'When the President calls, you answer?'"

Olivia crossed her arms, emphatically unwilling to think about such a proposition. "I don't think that relates to me."

"That sounds like a mighty fine offer. You could be a top dog."

"But I already am a top dog. I like working for myself. I love you guys. can't leave you. I don't want to. We have work to do. I'm not going to let anyone deter my mission. Fitzgerald Grant cannot or will not stop me."

Her voice was strained. The team looked back with concern.

Stephen interjected by clapping his hands, "Alright, everyone. Let's break and get started with the Murphy case."

Olivia pursed her lips, again frazzled by the mention of his name. Weirdly enough, the trigger came from her own lips.

When the others exited, Stephen inquired, "Liv, is there something going on?"

"No."

She began to panic as Stephen moved closer, lowering his voice. "As soon as you've returned from there, you've been... off. I'm worried. Did anyone get on your bad side?"

"It's fine," she lied, crossing her arms. "Still adjusting to everything. Lack of sleep."

Stephen placed his hands on Olivia's shoulders. "Liv, you are a pro at this. I've never seen you to break under pressure. Just view the White House like one of our clients. Give them enough attention but make sure This is why we need this thing to be over. Can you delegate? Have Abby connect with the Post? They have a reporter following Mellie. We probably need to find friends and any long-long relatives. Eager beavers will be chomping at the bit to make the President look horrible. I would like for you and Harrison to keep an eye on Mellie's lawyer and any gossip blogs. I'll have BNC close. Okay?"

She waited for the deferential nod. With a confident smile, she thanked him for his patience. After he left, Olivia touched Doux Bébé. Fidgeting or pacing the room were her coping mechanisms. There was a gaping weakness being shown and she cursed herself for being cavalier. They were smart — it would only be a matter of time before they connected the dots, finding out the who's and how's and why's. There was more to her relationship with Fitz. He was more than just a client. He was someone that she loved.

Pulling herself away from the epicenter of her conflict was always an option. Not reasonable, because she was getting paid, but she needed space. The frustration. She had become close with politicians and well-known players of Washington. But they weren't paying her. The spotlight was large and bright. Any sharp moves and pivots in the wrong direction would take her down. Not being absorbed with the thought of him. Everything was leading back to him. This was upsetting.

It was getting to be ridiculous; why was she waiting for him?

Already exhausted from the long hours, but she was still hoping to receive a message or some sign from a few miles down the road. She needed him to get this divorce so she could feel the pressure lift.

It was so damn hard to do the right thing.

* * *

 

Cyrus called incessantly. Pleas to return to the White House. Reminding her that she was needed. They had been stagnant with their approach. Mellie was tearing him down and he's not strong enough to fight. A week was long enough to be away. Her gut was never wrong and she needed to work.

"Good to see you, Miss Pope," Morris greeted.

"Thank you."

"Have a good break?"

Olivia shrugged off her surprise. "Yes. Let's see if I can balance everything."

Taking a back route to her office, she arrived without interruption. Door closed, she got a moment to breathe and get situated. A box was set on the middle of her desk. Olivia saw her name on the label; assuming it was a new pack of pens or better yet, notepads to write and rewrite press releases and statements, she tore it open. It was a brick of a phone. A burner.

"What the...," she muttered. A note was stuck on the back.

_This is yours. Use it freely._

Olivia frowned. She didn't have time for any of the shenanigans that this package stood for. Shoving it into a cabinet, she prepared for her morning brief with the usual suspects. It felt incredibly awkward when she entered the Oval Office. Quietly greeting Cyrus and Rob. Then the side door opened. There he was - in a dark grey suit, hair slicked back. His jaw was slightly clenched. It reminded her of the first day they met. Distant and cold. Olivia kept her focus on Cyrus, not even wanting to deal with feeling his eyes burning the back of her head.

Rob introduced their new tactics, piggybacking on Olivia's thought at her office. Focusing on Mellie's relatives or any mutual friends who could slip any juicy tidbits.

"Alright. Thank you, gentlemen. My team and I will get right on it. If you will excuse me, I have to go."

"Olivia?"

His voice stung in her ears. Instead of answering him, Olivia turned to Cyrus.

"Cy, I will call you when I find out our next move."

Olivia marched away, feeling accomplished that she didn't even talk to him. It would have been a mess if she had; her whole day would have been shot to hell. This balancing act was turning into the most difficult process. She had to remind herself why she was coming to the White House - to do her job correctly.

Falling in love with your client was not on the list. Now that she blatantly crossed that line, fighting tooth and nail to resist, and still losing that battle, she had to be careful. One glance could ruin everything. Cameras were everywhere. A journalist lurking for a quote, could leave with a juicy development that would tarnish her career.

Maybe Cyrus wouldn't care how she interacted with the President of the United States once the case was handled. But that's not why she was hired. She had to be that person to neglect whatever personal tendencies were floating around and be professional, even if others didn't follow suit.

The President took her seriously and knew her role was vital, but Olivia had to make sure that everyone would see her in that light as well.

As soon as she reached the temporary office, she heard the irritating sound of buzzing. It was the phone. The longer she ignored it, the louder the rings were.

Growling, Olivia pulled the burner out of the box and slammed the "end" button.

Thirty seconds later, another round of rings.

"What is it?"

"Are you ignoring me?"

Olivia shut her eyes. It was taking everything within her to not yell at Fitz. It was obvious that she was avoiding all contact with him.

"What's wrong?"

"Stop talking."

"Excuse me? I made sure you had this phone so we could talk. You don't tell me what to do."

"Actually," Olivia harshly retorted, "I do have that power right now. I'm hanging up."

Fitz continued, anger rising in his voice. "But why did you give me the cold shoulder? You've been ignoring me for the last week and in my office, you act as if I've not even there."

"I had to focus."

"You're a superb multi-tasker."

Olivia gritted her teeth. "I just couldn't."

"Are you upset with me, Liv? It would devastate me if I offended you and you couldn't tell me what the problem was. What do you want? Tell me and I'll fix it."

"I can't do this."

"What do you mean?"

Trying to control herself from blowing up at him, Olivia smarted at him. "Don't play cute. I have work to do, Mr. President. Have a good day."

* * *

 

"What's going on?"

Olivia knocked at Cyrus' door. Another three days passed, and she was fine with being the invisible advisor.

Cyrus rose from his chair, storming towards her. "It's not good, Liv. He's been asking for you. You can't keep hiding like this. We need to adjust. Try to accelerate this thing."

The two sped to the Oval Office. Fitz was sitting at his desk, obviously annoyed with something.

"Good morning, Mr. President. We received word that Mellie is resisting. She thinks there's a chance of reconciliation, but her team is planning to smear. She thinks you're calling bluff."

Fitz rolled his eyes.

"Sir?"

"Stop her."

Cyrus shot a look of surprise and desperation at Olivia, but continued. "They will keeping pushing. Slipping notes to the press. Make you look horrible."

Fitz repeated in a firmer tone. "Stop. Her."

"She wants to talk to you."

"I only want to talk to her through my lawyer."

Olivia's eyes grew.

"That is why she thinks you're seeing someone," Cyrus accused. "That's why you want to get out of the marriage. You won't reach out to her?"

"I'm not seeing anyone and more importantly, I know her too well to fall victim to her schemes. Groveling at her feet will be a disaster. I won't do it."

"Okay," Cyrus lifted his hands hurriedly. "When was the last time you talked to the girl?"

"I haven't!"

Olivia turned away as guilt rose. It gave her a minute to think, process the dilemma at hand, and strike. "Okay," she interjected, facing Fitz and Cyrus. "We're going to handle this. Mr. President, what would you like us to do?"

Fitz lifted his chin. Standing straighter, he commanded, "Handle it. Just be clean about it."

"So that means, we need to get you out there, serving the community, being the President, and paying no mind to the First Lady."

It was a pointed challenge. Fitz was focusing more on the headlines and not getting back on track with his life and his job.

Fitz announced, "I'm not budging or retracting the papers. I'm done with this, Liv."

The mention of her nickname was a red flag. Not in public. Not in front of Cyrus.

"Okay."

"Would you like me to meet with her team? I can do it, if you'd like."

Fitz's lips were pursed, narrowing his eyes at her. It was probably the last thing he wanted; having the woman he lived with for over 10 years, talk to the woman he was talking to.

"I don't know. I don't want her t—"

"Let me take care of this," Olivia whispered. "It's for the best. I can spin it so she won't have any choice but to let the process take its' course."

Cyrus' arms were crossed, waiting for his protégé, boss, and muse, to answer. Before Fitz could do that, there was a knock.

"Come in."

Lauren peeked her head out, "Sir. The First Lady is on line one."

"Fuckin' shit," he mumbled. Cyrus palmed his face, while Olivia stood frozen.

"Fine. Fine. I'll take it, thank you, Lauren."

The door closed. Fitz sat down at the Resolute Desk. "Please have a seat. Stay quiet. I'm putting her on speaker. Take notes if you have to."

Cyrus and Olivia followed his directions.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Fitz. It's been awhile since I've heard from you."

"It's only been a few weeks, Mellie."

"I suppose. I watched your interview. Very interesting."

Seeing his jaw clenched, Olivia watched Fitz ask, "What do you need?"

Mellie began, with a hint of sarcasm. "It was cute. Smart. You always know how to put on the charm. But do you really think America is going to stay on your good side? Stand by their man — a philander, who does not know what he wants? Where's the loyalty in that?"

"I hope you noticed that I did not badmouth you. I took the high road."

Olivia slowly opened her notes App, ready to quote anything that the First Lady would say. They needed as much as oppo as they could get.

"Why are you being like this? We had a good thing going and you want to be selfish and ruin us."

"Are you willingly oblivious to the fact that I was not happy? After Tommy…" Fitz paused to compose himself. Olivia looked concerned, but still followed directions. "Do you know how much the accident broke me? I lost my mother and my son. The same day. I couldn't look at you and not think about what happened. I was hurting. I stepped out on you, for fuck's sake."

"I was hurting too, Fitz. My baby that I carried inside of me, who I delivered, and took care of while you were away, was taken from me. Do you know how that feels? Maybe I let you down, but I was devastated when you slept with that girl. And I continue to stand with you," Mellie interrupted. "Because it was the right thing to do. Why can't we just stick this out until your term is over?"

"No. I will allow you to dictate my happiness. If we stay together, I will be miserable until the day I die."

Mellie scoffed loudly, "My God, Fitzgerald. What is wrong with you? I have done nothing but support you. I gave up my partnership for you. I could have been a major player in California and Washington if it wasn't for you."

"How is that? You were a socialite until we got matched together. I wasn't trying to stop you. You made the choice to ride this thing out with me."

Olivia was thinking of how to make this look more amicable that it was going to be. There was no way that this would end well, unless she had a plan. The bickering had to stop. She waved at Fitz, rotating her finger, telling him to wrap it up. Before he said something outrageous that would bite him in the ass and screw up their agenda.

"I need you to speak with my lawyer. I have a 1 o'clock briefing that I have to prepare for."

"You will not shoo me away like a stray cat, Fitzgerald. Just know that I am not going to give this up. If I don't get what I want, you're going to pay."

"Try me."

Fitz slammed the phone down, immediately massaging his forehead. Looking over at Cyrus, who was staring at the ceiling, Olivia jotted a few more notes then set the phone down. This was not pleasant - reminding her of her initial meeting with the First Couple.

"Sorry, you two, that you had to hear this."

"I'm used to it. Quarrels. It was quite calm actually," Cyrus jabbed. "I was ready for shouting, threats, and more name calling."

Olivia sat quietly, taking in all the information.

Both Cyrus and Olivia's phones flashed. Her face paled, the contents hitting her in the stomach. It was the shock they were not expecting.

"Sir."

"What is it?"

Fitz stared at Cyrus, who appeared to have lost his voice. Olivia read the newsflash aloud: First Lady Mellie Grant claims the White House is blocking her advancement to politics; stating the President is seeing another woman.

To her horror, Fitz shoved his coffee mug, letting it slam to the floor.

"Sir. We are going to take care of this," Cyrus assured, trying to not explode himself.

"Oh? Because the last time I checked, you were still sitting here, not moving fast enough." Fitz ran his fingers through his hair, beyond frustrated. "Fuck!"

Cyrus powerwalked to the door, greeting the Secret Service Agents.

"Gentlemen, everything is fine. Just a reflex. All is well. We will have housekeeping take care of this."

The men did not budge. Fitz waved them off. "It's fine, guys. My personal life is becoming more of a mess."

When the door closed, Olivia called her office, summoning the crew to search for the reporter who got conned into releasing the statement.

"We need to hold a press conference."

Olivia nodded, standing up. "I'll call Rob and catch him up."

"I want you to lead it."

"What," she questioned, pivoting back, with eyes wide with surprise. "There is no way."

Fitz crossed his arms. "I don't want anyone else. You are going to take care of this."

Olivia glared at him, becoming annoyed.

With a smirk, he ordered, "Make it happen, Liv."

* * *

Was he punishing her? For ignoring him? Being distant? She called for Abby to bring a fresh suit from the house, with deodorant, a hairbrush.

It didn't take long for her delivery to arrive. The press conference would start in 15 minutes. Olivia got changed, pulling her hair back into a neat bun. Swiping on a nude lip balm, reviewing her notes, she seemed to be ready to deliver the President's message.

The assistant opened the door as she approached the podium. Cameras began to flash. She wasn't sure if she was announced before the Press Corps sat down. Opening her official White House, she curtly smiled.

"Good afternoon. My name is Olivia Pope and I will be fielding your questions."

The first wave of raised hands. Olivia pointed at the woman in the front row.

"What is your connection with the White House?"

"I am representing the President during this ordeal, ensuring the transition into single life goes smoothly as possible."

"Is the President aware of this claim?"

"Yes, he was working when he received the inaccurate claim."

"Is your position focused on reputations? Damage control?"

With a smile, she answered, "My firm, Olivia Pope & Associates, covers many facets - reputation and crisis management, public relations. We want to get our clients out of sticky situations and bring them back into the light."

She worked the room, delicately answering questions, Giving the Press Corps most of what they wanted, but still leaving much to be desired.

"Miss Pope."

"You may call me Olivia."

The journalist, Jake Ballard, from the European trip, asked, "I'm surprised no one has asked this. But usually when a claim is made, there is some truth behind it. Is the President seeing anyone?"

A curt nod followed. "President Grant is waiting until the divorce is settled before he jumps back into the dating world. That is all I will say about the matter."

"So, no girlfriends?"

Olivia's eyebrows slightly raised, while thinking of a fast response. "I do not comment on the President's social life."

"Then why is First Lady Grant making these accusations?"

"We are only focusing on what the President wants," she answered. "I cannot speak for anyone else."

"Is the First Lady refusing to sign the divorce papers?"

"We will be waiting for both parties to come to an agreement. The President wishes that he and the First Lady will be able to focus on their lives, individually. As public servants and more important, citizens of our nation."

After twenty minutes, she politely ended the session. It was more than a quick statement on the Capitol steps or near the W Hotel. She was standing at the most famous platform in the country, being the official mouthpiece. Once she was hidden from view, Olivia breathed deeply. That was intense; in front of the Press Corps, giving all of this information, knowing full well where her client stood on the matter.

Olivia wrapped on Cyrus' door. He smiled, giving her a thumbs up.

"Good job, Liv."

"Thank you. I'm still ticked off that he didn't let Rob just do this."

"He trusts you."

"He trusts you."

Cyrus countered, with a trained look. "I do not stand at podiums and deliver the word from the mountain. I do not have the magic touch to speak to the hand-chosen group of journalists, without berating them. You have clout."

It didn't help the situation.

"I personally want to thank you. The battle is halfway through, we'll get there."

"Do you think he'll be alright when this is over?"

"I don't know. But he has a different call than the rest of us. He was created to be great. Leaving this - he'd regret it for the rest of his life. I'm sure of it."

"I'm going home. I did my favor of the day. Don't call me until the morning."

"Got it."

Olivia drove home in silence. She hated being in front of cameras. She was the puppetmaster. The Wizard behind the curtain. Now, there was a face behind the name.

After her long shower, slipping into a comfy pair of pajamas, Olivia laid in bed. Brooding about the day, getting bitched at it by the President, being thrusted into the limelight.

Having to get out of her comfort zone..but he trusted her.

Just when she couldn't get a break, the burner rang. Letting out a deep groan, not wanting to deal with the annoying rings, she answered. But do not speak.

"Liv? Olivia."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"You have a press secretary, communications director. You have people who are right there to do you bidding. I'm only here to make sure you that you get past this hiccup."

"Liv," he stated. "I need you."

Ignoring his confession, Olivia tried to deflect.

"You can't say things like that."

"Why not," he asked. "Because it's true."

The back and forth was getting ridiculous, but she couldn't fall for good. There had to be a line. That would help her sleep at night. But she knew she was a goner.

This man would tell her over and over, of how her presence in his life was a good thing.

"Fitz," she reprimanded. "We can't do this."

"I've realized…"

Olivia lips pursed, being interrupted. "What?"

"My day gets easier when I talk to you."

"Hmph."

"I mean it, Liv."

"I find that hard to believe."

It shouldn't have because she felt the same way. Her heart would skip quickly and more often when his name crossed her emails or if his face was on the TV. Or when she'd walk the hallways, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. When her face expressed differently. The heartstrings pulling constantly.

"You were quite rude earlier."

"I know. I want to apologize."

"Okay," she replied.

"Can we play our usual 10 questions game?"

Olivia closed her eyes, smiling briefly. "Fine."

Fitz thanked her for humoring him. "What do you do when you're not working."

"I don't know." Her abrupt reply gained a chuckle out of him.

"Okay, I'll rephrase. When you need to take a break, what do you do?"

Olivia revealed, "I swim. I run. I drink wine."

"Fancy."

"Stop. You're judging me."

She couldn't deny how adorable Fitz sounded when he laughed.

"Never. I like knowing more about you."

"You don't want to know about me."

"Why do you assume that I don't? Don't put words in my mouth, Olivia Pope," Fitz spoke. "I want to know everything about you. I just need the chance. I want the chance."

The lump in her throat that formed was too big, caught in that awful spot that hurt to even try to swallow. She hadn't heard someone be that frank with her, in a very long time.

"Fitz. I need to focus on the news cycles. My work."

"Stop using work as an excuse. I know what you're doing. There's nothing to talk about. We just need her to sign the papers. The end."

She knew he was correct in his explanation. Dodging the real issues between them weren't going to succeed.

"You know it won't be that easy."

"I know," he confirmed. "But will you give me a chance, Liv? I just want to talk with you. See you. Not in my office. Just you and me."

Olivia rested her head against the pillow. FAs much as she wanted to chalk up his smooth words to a grand example of political flirting, she couldn't deny their lasting power. Fitz was being genuine Realizing he was not going to step off this soapbox, she asked, "Don't you have people that need to go home?"

"I'm on my private line. The burner."

She rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Good grief."

"Grief isn't good, my friend," Fitz slyly responded. "Give me one minute."

His whisper - excruciatingly tempting - was holding Olivia captive. Her thoughts went straight to the moment when they were standing by the window, looking at each other. Nothing was said but their eyes could tell so much. Lots to offer, potentially reaching a moment where they could be themselves.

"Come to Camp David with me, Olivia. Let's talk. In person. No distractions. Just us."

* * *

_Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think. xo_


	8. Chapter 8

_President Grant and trusted Cabinet members will be spending the next few days at Camp David, where he will focus on new education reforms. This will be the first time the President will leave Washington since the announcement of his separation to the First Lady. Although the Grants have not publicly attended any events since the press release, there has been no word on further proceedings._

It took her two full days to be convinced. Keeping the invitation a secret, Olivia mulled over all the reasons of why she couldn't follow Fitz to Catoctin Mountain. Logic ruled her psyche. Unless it was absolutely necessary, she didn't travel with clients. At all. They were all in the 20 mile radius of K Street NW. If anyone was going to venture off, she'd book flights and rental cars for her team. She remained in the background and was satisfied with this role. Italy was a legitimate reason. But now, she was doing things differently, yet again. The woods did not inspire her. Wearing layers and hiking boots? Not her cup of tea. But the idea of getting away from the nonstop drama of her job, to actually breathe and "sleep in" past 6, was already a gift from the heavens. And then — the real reason — being able to spend time to be with Fitz, get to know him better, decide how this dynamic was going to proceed, without the cameras in her face? That was lucrative and she couldn't pass this up. He wanted to talk to her and have time to themselves.

When she called to inform him of her decision, Olivia knew it was the appropriate choice.

After sending a group text that she wouldn't be in the office, she got on the road around 5am. A tumbler filled to the brim, small bag of three outfits, a suit — that was always a non-negotiable — plus snacks and a couple of frozen meals. The traffic away from Washington was usually lighter than the rows of cars heading towards the Nation's Capital. From the information given by the GPS, it would only take an hour. One hour to ponder all the scenarios, and what ifs.

Her will to resist was minuscule; it took long enough to admit to herself that she and Fitz had something more than a professional relationship. They had become closer. He would call when he needed an opinion or a friendly conversation, outside of whatever they had been discussing. She was relying on him to be the encourager at day's end.

The night before, she couldn't sleep. A mix of fear and excitement prevented her from shutting her eyes, but it was going to be the right call. When Fitz announced the reason for the trip, Olivia knew her presence would give the meetings the sparks it required to succeed. It was decided that the Administration would take this time to push the President's education reform so that his personal drama could skip at least two cycles. Putting the emphasis on what really mattered.

The sun had risen completely by the time she arrived to the camp's gate. The scenery was very plain and unassuming, outside of the guard on duty as she pulled up.

"Good morning, ma'am. May I see your ID?"

Olivia handed the guard her driver's license and her hard pass. The guard firmly nodded.

"Wonderful, if you could drive all the way to the fork and then to the left, you will see the cabins. One of the agents will instruct you further."

She thanked the man and followed the path. Sure enough, there was a row of black SUVs. One agent, who was dressed down in a flannel and jeans, greeted her with a rare smile.

"Good morning, Miss Pope. Your presence is requested here at the Laurel Lodge. Would you like coffee? Breakfast?"

Politely grinning, she accepted, "Just a coffee, with two sugars."

Olivia followed the agent, Daniel, inside the lodge. Watching and reading about former presidents congregating to this place to formulate policies, organize civilities among nations, always fascinated her. It almost felt like going to the principal's office, but for a good reason.

Finally, she recognized a familiar face. Cyrus along with three other men, were circled up, shooting the breeze. While she was sporting more of a formal look, the others were in jeans and casual wear.

"Mr. Beene, Miss Pope is here."

Cyrus clapped, as he usually did, welcoming his friend.

"Liv! Top of the mornin' to ya! I want you to meet…"

Shaking hands with the other guests, Olivia tried to focus — faces, names, or some factoid about each person. But of course, she wasn't paying attention, because she was on the lookout.

Then, he appeared from the confines of his office. Looking quite laid back in a dress shirt and jeans, Fitz confidently strutted in, directly towards her. Bypassing the other guests. Maybe he greeted the others earlier…

"Olivia, it is so good to see you."

She wanted to step forward and hug him, but logic was reminding her of where she was and who was nearby.

"Good morning, Mr. President."

Volts of electricity were running freely through her body. As soon as their eyes met, all bets were off.

There was no way in hell that she was going to return to Washington in the same manner in which she left.

"How was the drive?"

"Uneventful."

"That's good."

She nodded, slowly closing her eyes. "Yes."

"We should get things going," Cyrus interjected, leading the others to their seats.

It was like no one else was in the room. Olivia turned away, pressing her fingers to her lips, slightly embarrassed. They almost got caught. Surely someone caught the flirtatious greeting and glances.

As stated on the news, the group worked on Fitz's education plan. There were considerable holes in the system, across the board. It frustrated him that the country was not doing a better job to support the generation's students.

Three hours of stripping down concepts. Olivia stood across the room, being a fly on the wall, but itching to jump in. Being in the throes of discussion, working on policies. It was a sight to behold.

"What do you think?"

All eyes on her.

Olivia took charge, presenting her fresh take on the proposals.

"This is what your base wants. They are looking for change, they want to succeed. If you're willing to give this to them, they will agree. If you stay consistent, Mr. President, you will be on the right track."

The room was silent. Feeling out of place, Olivia sunk in her chair. But Cyrus exclaimed, "This — this is what we're going to do."

Her eyes met the one whose approval, she wanted to gain. The smile appeared and a quick wink.

"I love it. Great work, everyone. Let's stop and return for dinner. 7 o'clock," Fitz suggested while rising to his feet. Checking his watch, he continued, "Please enjoy all that Camp David has to offer. There are plenty of golf carts to get you all over the campus. I'm sure we will have a photo op tomorrow afternoon, for the media. But other than that, our schedule is quite fluid."

As he shook hands with everyone, Olivia slipped away to make a phone call. It wasn't a big deal to be present for all the formalities. She opted to sit in her car to talk.

"Hey."

"Hi. Do you have a second?"

"Always. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling her seat back, slipping off her heels. "Can I tell you something? I need to tell someone this."

"Sure."

"Stephen," she began, "I'm at Camp David."

The disappointment and intrigue in his knowing sigh was evident. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Olivia, why couldn't you have told us? Is it top secret? It couldn't be that bad because they announced it on the news."

"I had to keep it quiet until I got here."

"Okay, Liv."

She hated hiding information from her team, especially Stephen. He was a true confidant, always wanting the best for her, but never backing down from speaking the truth. "I need you to keep me accountable."

"And why is that?"

"Because."

"Because why, Olivia? Are you in trouble?"

Twisting her lips, she spat, "I'm the only non-Cabinet member here." That was true, but was not the reason why she needed emotional backup. "I need you to call me if you don't hear from me by tomorrow afternoon."

"Is there something going on?"

"I'm not in trouble, Stephen. Just trust me. We're working on accomplishing more and keeping the divorce on the back burner. You know how we do for our team building courses."

His response was a chuckle. "Yes, a weekend in St. Michaels always does the body and mind good. Hey, there's no need to be nervous. You were meant for this. The President wouldn't have asked you to come if he didn't think you were needed."

"But this is huge," she groaned. "What is he going to ask me to do next? And no, don't think that I am not leaving you. I gotta go. Tell everyone that I'm fine. I'll be back soon. Just— call me if you don't hear from me."

"Alright."

"Thank you."

"Be safe, Liv."

"I will."

Closing her eyes, Olivia thought again why she was here.  _To be called upon._   _To serve the President of the United States._  It was a honor and a dream that she hadn't revealed to anyone. Under Cyrus' tutelage at Georgetown Law, Olivia was plotting a timeline for herself. Pass the bar, become a partner at a downtown firm, earn clout, move up the ranks. But when she realized that she needed to do more and be more, she stepped out in faith and confidence. Now, after four years of bringing prominent individuals out of the shadows and into the light, to reach this level of trust and be in this position — the President's inner circle. Already having spoken to the Press Corps, now at Camp David for a summit. Where could this take her? And if she decided to truly pursue this thing that she and Fitzgerald Grant. Would it break her?

She didn't need to worry about this. She needed to stay calm and enjoy the time off. If she was needed at work, they'd call.

* * *

Olivia wasn't in the mood to socialize or explore just yet, so she pulled out the work she brought and got to it. It felt great to focus without distractions. Now if she could figure out where she was staying for the night, that would be perfect. But she didn't know who to ask.

"Hey, stranger."

Pausing her response to an email from Abby, Olivia peeked over her shoulder to find Fitz, standing behind the table with a cup of water in his hand.

"Hi."

"You're awfully quiet today. Doing alright? I didn't see you after the meeting."

His smile was captivating.

"Yes, I am," she replied. "Had to call in."

"That's great. Did you eat lunch?"

Olivia returned to the laptop. "Not yet."

"The chefs here are top of the line. They make all sorts of meals. Extremely healthy, absolute crap. Whatever you want, they'll make. I can ask them to bring something down."

Amused by his concern and obvious flirting, Olivia nodded. "Thank you, Fitz. I appreciate it."

She didn't want to appear disinterested, but there had to be a smoother transition.

"Hey, where am I staying? I should probably unpack and stuff."

Fitz reached for a card.

"You are staying here."

"How far is that from here?"

"Just a cart ride away. Would you like me to take you?"

"You have time to memorize cabins," Olivia asked mockingly. "That seems far below your job description."

In an upbeat tone, he asked, "I do what I can. Ready?"

"I can take my car."

Fitz stopped, "Oh. Well, you can follow me if you'd like."

Olivia remembered that he couldn't actually ride with her, unless the agents were accompanying them. There hadn't been any clearance or advanced notice. Even on the private grounds, there was so much to consider when Fitzgerald Grant was involved.

"That's fine."

The ride was short, taking a turn to the right, and past a few trees. It was an adorable cabin, hopefully it would suffice on the inside. 

"Here is your key," he offered. As the transfer occurred, their fingers touched and Olivia felt that brisk shot of energy. Every time, it surprised her. She held plenty of hands, been infatuated with the male species since she was in high school, so it shouldn't have been any life-changing experience to brush up against someone else. But with Fitz, it was a different story.

"Thanks. Do you mind waiting? Maybe I can partake of this cuisine you were raving about."

She was satisfied to observe Fitz's body language change as he heard her suggestion. Loosening up, he exclaimed, "Sure thing!"

With a quick nod, Olivia entered her cabin, organizing everything. Then changing into jeans, t-shirt, and cardigan. Officially she could switch into play mode. When she locked the door, Fitz pulled away from leaning on her SUV.

"Oh, wardrobe change!"

She blushed. "Yeah. I was feeling a bit silly being overdressed this morning."

"You looked gorgeous."

Olivia gave a side eye. "Really?"

Biting his lip, which made her weak in the knees, he apologized, "Sorry. I can't help it. Now, Miss Pope, let me help you get into this cart. I will warn you. I drive fast."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

Without much fanfare, lunch went well and Olivia returned to her cabin to take a nap. Thankfully, she didn't miss the dinner call at 7. Switching outfits once more, she wore a silk blouse and dress slacks. The venue had switched to Aspen, the President's lodge. Incredibly massive in comparison to Laurel, Olivia couldn't imagine not having a good time here, when work was over.

It should have been a surprise to be asked to sit to the right of the President, but Olivia took it all in stride. During dinner, Olivia was actually bored because it seemed like Fitz had to play up his role as Commander in Chief, entertaining the Cabinet members. She anticipated a laid-back, no filter kind of personality that she was hoping would rise out of him. What she did admire was the the tight-knit relationship of President and Chief Of Staff she observed. Fitz and Cyrus shared glances, finishing each other's sentences. Belly laughs filling the dining room. It was extremely cute.

"Would anyone like a nightcap?"

Fitz took it upon himself to be the bartender. One guest asked for Scotch; Cyrus opted for a vodka, while Olivia held a small glass of red. When Fitz came to her side of the table, they smiled at each other as he poured her fill.

"Say when," he whispered.

Almost getting lost in his eyes, she mumbled, "When."

Clearly, it was the sexiest exchange they had since Italy. Something about looking into his eyes made Olivia feel like he was the only person in the room. Even though there were five other people, who could catch them at this vulnerable moment. It didn't seem to matter.

Cyrus came through with the appropriate interruption. "Ah! One of the small perks of working for you, Sir. Being able to 'relax' like this. We should come here more often."

Fitz nodded with a knowing smile towards Olivia. "I want you all to never doubt my appreciation for you. To a successful summit or conference or whatever you want to call this. I hope we are all able to be productive and refreshed."

The whole table lifted their glasses as a response to Fitz's toast.

"Well, I'm going to turn in. This will be the first night in two years that I will be going to sleep before midnight." Cyrus shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what he said. "Good night."

The others followed suit. Olivia waited for them to walk out before turning her focus. That left her alone with him. 

"Hi."

"Hi."

Fitz leaned in, holding his glass, "I can't thank you enough for coming up here."

"You're guaranteed some peace and quiet, I believe. Quite an environment to get it."

After sipping on his signature drink, a vintage Scotch, Fitz added, "Yes. I hope you can relax during your stay. Will you be joining us for all three days?"

Olivia shrugged, "Depends on how long I'm needed. Does it usually take three days to agree on this?"

With a smile, Fitz teased, "If your work allows, I would love to have you as long as I can. But everyone has a choice."

Such candor from him; smiling into her class, she whispered, "What was I thinking?"

"What were you thinking, Olivia?"

"I keep doubting myself that I belong here."

Fitz's eyebrows lowered, amazed that she would even utter a statement. "You are a great addition to our team. My team. I highly respect your opinion. I consider you to be my Senior Adviser. If you want, the position is yours. Seriously. And, having you here, being able to hang out with you, is a great perk."

She knew that look.

"You're doing too much. What am I, teacher's pet?"

"No," he argued. "You're Olivia Pope. The most powerful woman in Washington."

"Fitz," she calmly asked, "What is the first thing you're going to do when the papers are signed and everything is finalized?"

Refusing to waver his gaze at her, he declared, "I'm going to sell my ring. No, throw it away. Then ask you out."

"Stop, you're just saying that."

"I kid you not. I've been waiting. I've been patient. Every day, since the moment I asked you to join my team. I wait and watch for you to come to the White House. Olivia, you are truly the light."

Olivia could feel her stomach tightening. Fitz always had a way of speaking his mind so eloquently. Every time they were together, he was sharing more of his heart and soul with her. Maybe she needed to follow. 

"It's getting late."

Her mouth opening to say the one thing she wasn't supposed to say. Of course, when the occasion arose to unravel a layer of truth and express how she truly felt, Olivia would divert. 

"I know. But are you tired?"

"No."

"You want to watch a movie? We can chill at the theatre. I'll whip up a fresh bag of popcorn. Just how you like it."

Olivia scoffed, crossing her arms. "Private movie theatre? Popcorn? Are you trying to impress me?"

"Now why would you think that? I won't have you out too late. I'll make sure you get home safely."

He was teasing, flirting, recognizing her, all at the same time. And Olivia loved it. All of it.

They sat on the couch, watching an old comedy. Nothing too serious. Olivia didn't want to put pressure on herself or Fitz, so sitting on the other side of the couch was reasonable. She knew that killed his mood, but in order for this to work, she had to use common sense.

* * *

Everything about the campus was endearing. There was so much land. A tennis court, swimming pool. A bowling alley inside of Fitz's cabin. A shooting range. Whatever guests wanted to do, they could it. No wonder why he liked to escape to Camp David. It was a peaceful getaway.

Olivia didn't have much trouble falling asleep. With the massive glass of wine she took, plus all the activities of the day, it was easy to wind down. But honestly, it was most likely knowing that Fitz wasn't far away that comforted her.

He called her first thing in the morning, so obviously, she had to answer. 

"Hi."

"Is this a wake up?"

"Sort of," he quipped. "I was wondering, did you happen to bring your running gear?"

Not even finished with her coffee, Olivia walked over to the closet, where most of her clothes were hanging. "Actually, I did."

"Good, I was getting ready to head out and I thought you'd enjoy the trail. Wanna join me?"

"What time?"

"Thirty minutes."

"Make in twenty."

Hearing him incredulously ask, "You'll be ready by then?" Being such a douche, whether he knew it or not, fired her up more. He had to learn. 

Pulling out her clothes, she countered, "I've gotten out of the door, meeting clients in the middle of the night faster, Grant. Don't test me."

"Ooh...it's on."

The click in her ear let her know that Fitz was a competitive guy and they were going to have a good time.

They met a half mile away from Olivia's cabin. Rocking her usual T-shirt and black athletic pants, with a low ponytail, Olivia was holding on to her phone, as Fitz and his agents drove in.

"Good morning," he strutted to her. Leaning in as if he had the audacity to kiss her, Olivia took a step back. Cocking her head slightly to silently let him know,  _no_.

"Hello."

"Fine day to get a run in, don't you think?"

Olivia gave a little nod, while stretching her hamstrings. "Sure. Are you ready to get your ass kicked, if the opportunity arises?"

"Don't worry, I'll be fine."

The two agents stood nearby stoically, gradually revealing a smirk or two Olivia's way.

"Okay."

Olivia and Fitz jogged in silence for the first ten minutes; footsteps pacing the ground, she was careful to not speed up. Running was her personal hallelujah and prayers to God. Giving herself time to tune everything and everyone out. Even the man beside her, or rather a tad behind.

Stopping at a specific point where one could see a beautiful valley.

"It's gorgeous."

Words denied her as Fitz was standing so close behind her. It was like he knew that she would melt at a moment's notice. 

"I wanted you to see this. I love this spot. It's so beautiful."

"Please," she whispered, very aware that he could segue into a kiss or some other romantic gesture. "we cannot make a scene. Your agents are right here."

Fitz relented, "Okay."

Olivia turned on her heel, continuing to run. She didn't realize that he was not too far behind. But she had to lighten up the mood; he was trying incredibly hard. "I didn't think you were a runner."

"I'm not," he answered, breathing deeply. "But I have to exercise. Plus, you said you run so I had to find a way to do something with you."

Olivia dabbed her sleeve against her forehead. "Good move, Mr. President."

"Do you like it here?"

"To be honest, I didn't think I would. But, I do."

Olivia reached for her phone. A text from Stephen.

_Everything okay?_

Smirking at the message, she wanted to be as truthful as possible.

_I'm staying until tomorrow afternoon. We're making progress._

"Ready to get back?"

Olivia rushed to ht send, and replied, "Sure." 

Cooling down, feeling the mountain air on their faces, they turned around. Their arms brushing against each other, being so close. Walking in tandem, which made Olivia giggle. How could they be moving in sync like this? Without warning, his fingers casually weaved through the spaces of her hand. She knew it was coming, she could feel his presence. Only a second was needed to decide whether to pull away, or allow the magnetism to run its course.

She closed the distance, relieved of this next step she took. They were walking down the trail, holding hands. No loud sounds of condemnation or sirens blaring. Everything was okay.

Olivia shifted her eyes to see what Fitz was doing; he was looking straight ahead, but his smile was crooked. He knew what he did.

"You like that?"

"Mmhmm," she answered. "You?"

Swooning, he replied, "I love it."

* * *

* * *

Receiving word from Cyrus that a photographer would stop by to shoot, Olivia inwardly groaned. Outside of dodging Fitz's blatant clues and gestures, she didn't want to be part of the photo op. But being a team player, she had to participate. The plan was to keep it simple, a sleeveless black jumpsuit with neutral makeup. Fitz had finished taking pictures with Cyrus and the other Cabinet members, when he met up with her.

"Hey. This won't take long."

"Fine," she mumbled.

Vince, the photographer, instructed, "Thank you, Mr. President. If you and..."

Fitz answered for Olivia, "Miss Pope."

"Great, if you and Miss Pope could walk towards me, that would be fantastic."

A few shots later, with the intent to act like they were discussing some elaborate PR move, the photographer stopped, then shook hands with Fitz.

"You guys look great. Thanks!"

"Thank you, Vince," Fitz glanced at a semi-annoyed Olivia. "See? That wasn't too bad."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I don't like being a show pony."

"Welcome to my world, Liv," Fitz snickered. "Guess what?"

Stopping to look at him, Olivia waited for his answer.

"I'm finally here with you. Do you know how happy I am right now?"

She could tell that he was beyond thrilled. Seeing him happy was now what she wanted. A complete 180 from their initial meeting at the Oval Office. Fitz was showing off his playful side, being at ease, not tensing up the whole time.

"I can tell. I am too," she said quietly. The smile on her face was a sign to Fitz that she was appreciating all he was doing for her.  The enthusiasm rubbed off on Olivia. In an act of spontaneity, she invited him to the cabin.

A few hours later, she heard him knock. A simple meal of chicken and vegetables was simmering. Letting down her hair, now in bouncy curls, she wanted to give a softer look for him. Seeing his beautiful face, Olivia beamed.

"I come bearing gifts."

Fitz was holding a box - two wine glasses, with a Shiraz. A small bouquet of roses.

Deeply sighing, Olivia reprimanded, "This is too much!"

Hearing him shout, "Candles?"

"I pulled a few strings," she remarked, fluttering her eyelashes. "I went the general store a few miles down the road. Wanted to set the mood."

Fitz took off his jacket. "I like."

Sitting by the fire that Fitz started, they ate dinner. Olivia marveled at how relaxed he was, not even concerned with anyone else who was on campus. 

Once their meal was gone, Olivia invited him to sit with her on the couch. They chatted about life away from downtown and the pressures of being great. 

"What have you heard about me?"

Olivia shook her head, knowing full well that Fitz wanted her to be honest. "The streets talk; you're a smooth talker. One of the best political charmers. Ladies adore you. Men probably want to be you. Cocky motherfucker. That's par for the course."

"The same can be said about you, Miss Pope."

"Oh," she gasped, dramatically pressing her hand on her chest, "How are we similar?"

Fitz slowly nodded, "Cocky motherfucker. I've read that you're a strong, independent, take-no-bullshit type of woman."

"Is that why you think of me?"

"You're phenomenal. Always ready to do whatever it takes to get the job done. You're kind, patient with me, and you talk to me like I'm a nobody. You don't seem in awe of me because of what I do."

Olivia jabbed, "You're right. I respect you for your position but I'm going to talk to you because you're a person."

Fitz opened his arm to let Olivia snuggle. 

"I don't bite, you know."

"Oh, I know," she answered. Taking a moment to consider, she closed the gap between them. Cozying up against him, she relished the feeling. He was so warm. Then her eyes moved toward his left hand. Gasping, "You're not wearing your ring."

"I'm not."

His voice was low and somewhat raspy.

"When did that happen?"

"You didn't notice?"

"No," she declared.

"Last week."

"I don't know why I didn't..."

"Because you've been too busy to keep your distance from me. I'm not going to hurt you. Or do anything that goes against your beliefs."

"I don't want anything to get ruined before we even get started."

Fitz held her hand. "Liv, we won't."

"I think about you a lot."

She admitted something she held so dear.

"Really?"

"Yeah, that's why I'm here. I just want...you."

"Oh my God. I thought I was the only one."

"You're not."

Olivia stood to get some more wine. She was nervous, she was excited. Having no clue what would happen next. As if he was reading her mind, Fitz was already next to her, hand over hers, lowering the wine glass.

"What?"

His eyes were dark and inviting. Olivia could sense that something was up.

Fitz's hands finding space on her sides, holding on, but not leaving her face.

She could read his mind and she knew he could read hers.

_Come and kiss me._

Slowly, Olivia lifted her chin while Fitz lowered his head. Their breathing synchronized. The ache in her belly increased as she waited.

Their lips touched. So soft.

Sighing, Olivia put more pressure against his mouth, which led him to follow her lead.

Her hands reached up to massage his scalp, breaking away from what she knew was appropriate. She thought she was floating on air, when Fitz slightly pulled away. Letting out a disappointing groan, Olivia questioned his actions.

"What?"

Fitz's lip curled in victory, making sure she was in agreement with what they just did.  As she laughed, she felt weightless as he hoisted her onto the dresser. Her shoes slipped off as her legs bent around his torso and hips, and heels digging into his ass. The tension was making her toes curl. When his hands cradled her face, guiding her back to him, the sigh in her deepened. Her brain wasn't able to process all of this. All of the resisting for weeks and now finally being able to let go. To share with him, without guilt. Her mouth opened to let him in. The kiss that she had been dreaming about, lusting over, and craving since Italy. Almost collapsing from being deprived. She needed more. His lips tasting like candy. Pulling on that bottom lip, nipping and sucking tenderly like there were juices inside. Refreshing. She didn't want to let go. It was a sin to waste the delectable moans coming from Fitz's mouth. He was a man deprived of any kind of good loving and intimacy.

What felt like an eternity, was only one minute.

Somehow, they pulled away at the same time. Catching their breath, there was a haziness in the room. Time had stopped, resumed, only to pause once more.

"Are we okay? Did we go too far?"

Olivia searched his face —  reddened from all the action. "Yes. But I need you to go."

Fitz's pupils grew, surprised by her prompt command.

"I mean, I don't want you to leave," she fumbled, snapping her eyes shut, frazzled by everything. "But… someone could see us."

Letting out an amused chuckle, he pointed, "Your windows are closed. No one is allowed to be on the property without my permission." Their foreheads touched. "I won't let you get in trouble. You're the reason why I'm not losing my mind."

"Is that so?"

"Mmhmm."

Her eyes shifting from his eyes, to his lips, zoning in on his hungry mouth.

"Kiss me again."

This time around, Fitz wasn't timid. His hands cupping her face. Olivia's arms had a life of their own, wrapping around his neck, wanting to get as close to him as possible. They made their way to Olivia's bed, becoming closer. How they could feel so good, without taking off an ounce of clothing, was beyond her comprehension.

The knock on the door startled Olivia as she let out a shriek. Fitz laughed, stroking her cheek.

"You're doing fine, beautiful. My Livvie."

Her heart shattered as he rose.

"It's just my guys. Hold on a sec."

Fitz smoothed his hair, before opening the door. Then, within a few seconds, he returned. Olivia was now sitting up.

"Do you have to go?"

"Yes, but I don't want to."

"I think you should go."

Olivia started to process what was going on. Was she truly going to let Fitz spend the night? They were already pushing the envelope, physically. She was stubborn but her desires would not be as strong. Was he going to do, sleep on the couch? Would they possibly cuddle, then just sleep on separate sides of the bed? Was she in middle school?

"You're right. Thank you, Miss Voice of Reason."

"I doubt it, because I wanted you to stay. But... it's too tricky right now."

They both gave each other sad smiles, aware of everything around them. As Olivia blew out the candles.

"Good night."

Rising on her toes, Olivia kissed Fitz. Almost as good as the first time.

"Text me when you get to your place."

Giving her hand a heartfelt squeeze, he said, "Of course."

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Olivia slowly returned to her bed, plopping down on the mattress. Resisting temptation was so fucking hard.

She kissed him.

There was no turning back.

Waiting for his text so she could get to sleep, Olivia prepared for bed. Taking a long shower, clearing her thoughts, but upset that she had to wash off his scent. He smelled divine; anyone else would used Armani cologne would be

She came back to two text messages.

_I'm back._

_You must be asleep. Good night, Olivia Pope. Tonight was amazing. Thank you for letting me kiss you. Thank you for trusting me._

* * *

When Olivia woke up, she was drenched in sweat. Observing her surroundings, she also realized that she wet underneath her pajamas. The dream she had was quite eventful. Already fantasizing about what his kiss and touch would lead to once he was free from his public marriage. A little embarrassed, but very thankful no one was around, she rolled over, sighing. Officially, he was still unavailable. To most people, it wouldn't matter, but she still had to think about her reputation. That hurt, but she knew the consequences. Either quit cold turkey, or just toe the line, intelligently waiting it out. Because he said he would. Would she be patient as well?

On the agenda, there was a 10am conference. Even thought she wasn't needed to attend the meeting the day before, she thought she should still participate. There had to be proof that this summit had happened. As Olivia rolled up to Laurel, she was surprised to see that the lot where the other carts would be, was empty.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Daniel," she greeted Fitz's agent. "Where is everyone? Did I read the agenda wrong?"

Daniel politely answered, "You can go inside, if you like."

"Where is everyone else?"

"They left."

"What?"

Fitz entered her peripheral, with a huge smile on his face. Pulling her in, sweetly kissing her forehead, then her lips. "Everyone left. It's just you and me. Remember that's why I invited you here."

"Wait, was the meeting..."

"We did great, but I had to cover up my reason why I wanted you here."

Becoming more comfortable with body language, Olivia tapped his arm, faking her disapproval. "You sly fox. You're the worst."

Fitz twisted his lips, before looking down at her. "Well... I think I'm allowed to mix work and pleasure."

"Stoppp!" Olivia playfully whined. "Do you think anyone realized what's going on? Did they see us?"

"No. Stop worrying."

"Your agents won't rat me out?"

Her conscience was tugging, weighing her down.

"Olivia Pope."

"What?"

Fitz made sure that she focused only on him. "What you may not seem to recognize, that even though I am under rules like everyone else. I do get some freedoms. As much as I want to leave, I am able to still have fun. I have told my guys to stand down when I want private time, and usually, they do. Now let's make the most of today before we both have to go back to DC."

The two enjoyed a peaceful breakfast, then disappeared into one of the spare rooms. Fitz thought it would be a good idea to get some practice in before departing in a few hours. Olivia did her best to stay as quiet as possible, because she knew how loud she would get whenever Fitz touched her. Still, being respectful, they didn't go beyond kissing and some light petting. 

Olivia went to go back before returning to Aspen, where she wanted to ask Fitz something. 

"Is what we're doing, similar to how you were with Amanda?"

She knew it was a risky question — Fitz's lazy smile was gone in a second, reminding her of their first meeting - but what else did she have to lose? If she was going to even contemplate anything more than a friendship, she needed truthful answers.

"You sure don't pull punches."

"I need you to tell me."

"She did not mean anything. I was lonely. Pathetic. I used my power and title get the best of me."

Olivia didn't quickly believe him and then forget everything; that wasn't her nature. She has to question all facets. "What about now? Are you lonely? What is it that you see in me that's different than Amanda or Mellie or anyone else?"

"I...I care about you, Liv. I wouldn't be doing any of this if I wasn't invested in you."

"Fitz."

"I want you. I'll keep reminding you until you believe me."

Olivia could feel tears brimming. Did the President of the United States telling her that he truly cared about her?

"Sir, we are leaving in five minutes."

"Thank you, Hal," he acknowledged. "I'm so glad you came."

Olivia couldn't help but give him a hug. "Me too."

She could hear him breathe slower, not willing to quickly move on from this. His lips tickling her neck as he asked, "See you soon?"

"Let's wait a few days," she replied, with a tinge of sadness in her voice. "I don't want anything to distract you when you return."

He nodded, but she knew he wasn't on board with the idea. "That's fine. But I know when we all return, Mellie's camp will be doing something off the wall."

"That's different. That's work."

Then, for whatever reason, they stopped talking. Olivia pursed her lips, knowing that they wouldn't be as free to kiss or hold hands, having been spoiled for the last 36 hours. Fitz silently motioned for the agents to turn away, and they did.

The gasp lodged in her throat as she accepted his kiss. Tasting his lips, scraping her teeth against the pink flesh. Her mind immediately taking her back to night before in the cabin, where they finally crossed the line of casual and formal. The moment they both had been waiting for, but never being able to express in words until now. 

A curt throat clearing, separated them. Hal was trying to keep his serious poise, but it was obvious that he was giving his boss a little leeway. 

Olivia tucked the hair out of her face, while Fitz kissed her forehead. He was so smug, just confident, that he was able to do what he wanted.

"Bye, Livvie."

Hearing him call her Livvie, made everything okay. Still mesmerized, she watched him wave, then enter the SUV, disappearing behind the dark windows. The motorcade slowly drove down the hill to the helipad as she crossed her arms, holding herself together. Before she got into her car, ready to head back to real life, she gave herself a minute to take a mental photograph.

This was now  _their_  place. Their first kiss was here. Camp David now had a new meaning. She wanted to return as soon as possible, without any official business to accompany their rendezvous.

But a new question arose: How in the fuck would she be able to work to her fullest potential on this case when Fitzgerald Grant was officially stuck in her brain?

As much as she wanted to shout from the mountaintops, Olivia knew she had to keep this secret a little while longer.


	9. Chapter 9

When Olivia Carolyn Pope chose this career of crisis and reputation management, she made a promise that she wouldn't overdo it. Letting emotions get the best of her. To think clearly, decide with facts on her side, and save the reputations of her clients. That's why she started OPA. Having control of what she did. Not having a boss. She was the boss.

But this time around, everything was flying out the window. She couldn't stop thinking about him or when she'd see him next. If strategies weren't being drafted and revised, her brain would shut off and float off to re-imagine every interaction. From the White House to their phone calls to the exhilarating moments in Italy and Camp David. As strong-willed as she trained herself to be, Olivia was failing. And falling.

Driving back to the apartment was the hardest two hours Olivia had to endure in a very long time. All she wanted was to turn around to Camp David and call him to come back to her. But that wasn't going to happen, so she had to settle for memories.

Staying true to her word, she didn't call or text. But she longed to hear his voice. Usually she was good about not being tempted, but another week had passed; whenever a news clip focused on Fitz, her head would shoot up like a spotter dog. More like a lovesick puppy.

"How's it coming along?"

"Liv? Olivia?"

"What," she blurted, realizing that she zoned out and everyone had noticed. The team had gathered to work on a new plan for a senator from Maryland. Abby's head was cocked to the side. The look on Harrison's face was priceless. Stephen twisted his lips, staring back in curiosity. She had never been so out of it. Their expressions were proof that she was tripping.

"The White House."

She squirmed, before composing herself. "It's moving. A bit slow but we will pull it together. I'm ready for this to be over."

"How was Camp David," Stephen asked, with a slight grin on his face.

He received a major side eye. Contemplating several ways of how to get him back at a later time Olivia crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly so her bangs flipped back, before replying, "It was fine, thank you for asking. Now let's get back to work."

Harrison patted her shoulder; "Are you okay, lady? It will be fine if you take a half day."

"No. I've been gone for too long and I need to get back into the swing of things."

Olivia sipped on her tea, then grabbed a file.

Ten minutes later, Quinn walked in. "Liv, Cyrus Beene is on the line."

A deep sigh escaped her lips. Olivia marched off to her office, closing the door.

When was she going to get a break?

"What," she barked.

"Seriously?"

"What's up, Cy?"

"That's more like it," he replied, "I need you to come in this afternoon."

Olivia couldn't help but laugh, but she didn't find the request amusing at all. "I have lots to catch up on. I can't just leave."

"You're going to want to. It's important. Mellie is trying to send out some interesting info through the wire."

"Like what?"

Cyrus added slowly, "She's going to announce that she does not want to sign papers. Mellie wants him to reconsider."

"Are you kidding me? Cy…"

"I am only the messenger."

Olivia fired back, "I thought they were making progress. They're separated."

"Liv, they haven't talked since that disastrous phone call when we were sitting in the Oval. Or did you decide to erase that from your memory Did you honestly think they were going to kiss and make up like that? They've been a ticking time bomb since they moved in. You know that when time passes and little birdies chirp in your ear, you want to change your mind. That's what happened with Mellie. Well, that's what I suspect."

"Fine," she relented. "I'll get there."

"The sooner, the better, Liv."

After she hung up, Olivia mentally thought of a timeline for the day. If she did step out, how much work could she get done when she returned? Was it just a ploy to stop by the White House, or could they just resolve everything via a conference call?

Olivia snatched her tumbler off the desk, sticking her head into the conference room. "I have to go."

"You just got here," Stephen argued.

"Call me when you get the Senator on board our new plan."

She made her executive decision known and was ready to hit the elevator button.

"Liv. Liv!"

Abby, who had such a quick wit, had followed Olivia to the lobby. Even with her long frame, she power walked to catch up with her boss and friend.

"Yeah?"

"Why do you always leave? You can't say no or just take a message. We're about to make a breakthrough with the case. And what if the Senator needs you on standby?"

It was common knowledge that out of everyone on her team, Abby would be the one to raise some hell. Ask the tough questions. Still, it didn't confuse or irritate Olivia less when Abby wouldn't take her at her word and just go back to work.

"Abby..."

"It's the White House, isn't it," she interrupted. "Is the President callin'? I knew that son of a —"

"Watch it."

"So his mess is more important than the cases we have?"

Abby was waiting for a legitimate answer.

"Listen, when all this is done, we can buy new furniture. Renovate the elevator. An actual website. I can give you raises. I need you to trust me. If I didn't have to go, I would have stayed, you know that. But just trust me. If it gets worse, I may need you all to step up on this. We will manage."

They exchanged glances. Hoping that what she had to say was enough to convince Abby. When her tight frown slightly raised into a smile, Olivia felt relieved.

"Okay," Abby winked, "Whatever you say, Boss. You know it's in my blood to question. But, we're behind you. Over a cliff."

* * *

"Gentlemen."

With the amount of time she was at 1600 Pennsylvania, she was on first name basis with everyone. From Morris, breezing through the security line. To being chummy to some of the Press Corps, especially after she gave her briefing a weeks prior. All Lauren had to do was kindly nod, and she was in the Oval. Walking in on Fitz, Cyrus, and Rob chatting.

His ears perked as soon as she entered and greeted them.

"Hello, Liv."

Deciding to not give him too much of a flirty pass, she firmly spoke."I don't have much time, but since I gave my word to Cy, I am here. So what's going on?"

Rob handed Olivia a bulky folder. "So, we have a new dilemma. I received word from an anonymous source that something of relevance will be shared with the news outlets tonight or tomorrow morning. Mr. President, your wife's camp is claiming you have someone else in the mix."

Skimming through the wordy crap, Olivia's mouth opened to a slight 'O'. "Well, that's not good."

"What?" Fitz's voice boomed as his eyebrows knit in disbelief, as he too read. "Another affair?"

Cyrus shook his head. "Sir, let's not worked up."

"We are separated. We are free to talk to people of the opposite sex. Is that a privilege that was taken away when I came into office too?"

Olivia remained still, but discreetly covered the ring on her hand. Another fucking issue in their way. Why would she think that he would truly give up everything for her? She refrained from making eye contact with Fitz.

"Or maybe it's because you look too happy. She thinks someone is responsible."

Cyrus rushed to answer, "It's not going to work. They're basing claims on empty rumors. Who's to say that she isn't sleeping around?"

Olivia lifted her hand, stopping the group. "Enough. Let's take a breath and decide on a plan."

"What do you suggest," Rob asked.

"More visuals that you're  _not_  dating anyone. Single as can be. Just minding your business, doing your job. Not bothered by any accusations."

Fitz slowly nodded. "Yeah. That's good, Liv."

Cyrus interjected, "I think a revision needs to be made in the documents and handed to her. On camera."

"What a minute," Olivia said, a bit confused. "That would fuel more fire."

"The divorce papers?"

"No," she rebuked, shooting a look at Cyrus. "The camera part. You can pay an unassuming character to drop it off and that's that."

"Mr. President. Your 3 o'clock will be here soon."

Fitz thanked Lauren and rose. "Well, I'm hoping you three can figure something out. I have to prepare for a meeting I have. Stay for a few minutes, but I gotta go. Thank you all for coming. Thanks, Liv."

"I think you should it." Cyrus suggested, not even moved when Olivia complained. "She knows you. You come in peace, but then she'll know you mean business. The 'Fixer' at your doorstep. I'd be scared shitless. I'll get the revisions made about slander and libel, and you ship it off. Tomorrow?"

"Friday."

* * *

Two days was enough time to mentally and emotionally prepare, as well as work her ass off, schedule or rearrange meetings at work. Olivia opted for a slate grey power suit with her favorite pair of Louboutins that gave her intimidating height. Always have to look the part, her mother reminded her over and over.

If it was anyone else she had to share bad news with, Olivia wouldn't have cared. But she was standing at the Blair House, the exclusive guest house of the President, which was now the hotel of Mellie Grant. It was still not well known that she was staying here, so Olivia was being extra careful, having the documents safe in her oversized purse.

An aide came to answer to the door. Olivia cordially smiled.

"Good morning, is the First Lady available?"

The young lady glanced at her notebook and answered, "Her schedule did not state that she was receiving visitors at this time. May I get your name?"

"Olivia Pope; the President sent me."

She watched the aide's fake smile disappear. "Hold, please."

Five minutes later, a Secret Service agent appeared.

"Follow me, Miss Pope."

Her appearance was calm, but still reserved, as she walked with the agent. Mellie was standing in the living room, hair pulled up in a tight but sophisticated bun. Olivia noticed she liked to wear blue and red a lot. This time, in a royal blue dress.

"Hello, Olivia." Mellie took her hands, bringing them together, before inviting her to sit. "What do I have the pleasure of seeing you?"

"I was asked to bring this document to you personally." Olivia lifted the hefty envelope out of her purse, handing it over. Ten seconds later, she received a confused look.

"Why are you giving this to me? Isn't that what a lawyer is for? Or an aide? I know how this works. I gave up my career to take this—  _all of this_  — on."

The complaint was reasonable; Olivia had to think of a gentle approach. Mellie wasn't new to the game.

"I thought receiving it from me would be a better look for you. In private, without the media seeing the transaction. I didn't want there to be a raucous in the middle of the day."

Mellie frowned. the deep crinkle in her forehead was quite unbecoming. Her smile was beautiful, but downright scary. When a woman is quiet, that's when a world gets turned upside down. Sliding the hefty stack of papers back towards Olivia, she stated coldly, "You tell my husband that he needs to meet me here tomorrow night before I sign anything."

"The document is right here, Mellie. All you have to do is sign and then you can move forward with what you want. A clean break," Olivia encouraged. The air was still thick, so Olivia switched gears. "Is your endgame politics? Or go back to law. Governor? President even? Do you want to be associated with him after all that's happened? This could be the come up you need. That you deserve. Better optics for you."

Olivia was shocked by her own words. Somewhat throwing this man that she was emotionally attached to, under the bus in order to push her agenda along. Her conscience would get the best of her later on, but she had a job to do. Her duty was to get her client off the hook. The President wanted a divorce. He was going to get what he wanted.

After hearing an unpleasant response, the First Lady stood, appearing to blow a gasket, but clenched her hands, turning away, to take a breath.

"Olivia, I do not know what is going on over there but I truly think my husband is not of a sound mind. He's pushing 50. He's in the middle of reaching a midlife crisis. But unfortunately, he does not have the pleasure of going through these changes in the public eye. He wants space, I get it. I sure as hell need him to not breathe down my neck. Maybe we should take a vacation to reset. Get to know each other. What do you think, Olivia? Separation periods are just that. Just a season to reevaluate without being on each other's tails."

Olivia kept a neutral face, while her host was going back and forth from bitter to optimistic.

"I cannot make that judgment call for you."

"What would you do, Olivia." The grit in Mellie's voice was startling.

"I don't know."

Olivia watched Mellie mull things over.

"I made him. He wouldn't have gotten this far without me. Do you truly know how much time, effort, sweat, missed opportunities, and dreams that were lost because of him? Because he wanted to get here? I gave up everything. Too many people risked a lot for Fitzgerald to get to where he is. He couldn't do it alone. I should be a premiere lawyer in California. Having my own firm. I should have my baby with me. Right now. But no. I am here, cast out of the house, looking like a spiteful bitch. I will be damned if he, or you, or anyone to force me out of my moment. My place. So I need you to turn around, up to that office, and you tell my husband, to get his shit together."

And that was all she wrote. What else could Olivia say to the First Lady that would make her change thought processes? It was hitting home. Obviously she wanted this marriage to dissolve for her selfish reasons. Finally being able to have a relationship with Fitz Grant without having anxiety. To tell him how she truly felt. But how would it look for her name to be run through the mud if she didn't follow through? Her career was more important than a temporary fix of affection.

"We will be in touch."

Olivia was preparing to leave when Mellie asked her to stay for a few more minutes.

"My team and I have researched you. You have been a powerhouse in town. What has it been, four years now? You don't lose. I read the cases you taken on. The people who come to you out of desperation. The hopeless, the despicable. The scandals you make disappear. You make it happen, Olivia, I am impressed."

The accolades didn't have a genuine spirit to them, but Olivia decided to remain calm and let her host continue, to make herself feel better. Get something off her chest.

Clasping her hands together like a good Southern host, Mellie continued. "In spite of our personal shortcomings, Fitz has been doing a great job at looking clean on camera. Staying focused on his work. There's this glimmer. This spark that no one has. He can't walk away from his Presidency. Fitz belongs here. He belongs to be here with me. I need to be at his side, so we can do amazing things for our country. Put some sense in his head, he listens to you. Think of it from my side, Olivia. We're both strong, independent women. Think about how you would feel if you were in the exact situation. You would want to come out on top and not let some man dictate how the rest of your life goes.

The sisterhood talk was making her feel more uncomfortable. Exactly why she  _didn't_ want to speak with Mellie. The psycho babble could linger, well after she returned home.

Inhaling, Olivia rose, clutching her purse. "Thank you for your time. My intention is not to ruin you. But my priority is my client and do what's best for him. If you change your mind, or have any ideas, please have your lawyer contact me."

Mellie's demeanor softened. "Convince him, Olivia. There is more to lose for both of us if we let this go."

* * *

An hour later, mostly using that time to sit in the car to clear her hand, suppressing her feelings because no one knew about her conflict, Olivia gave Fitz the less-than-stellar news.

"She wants to meet with you."

Fitz made the most ridiculous face, pursing his lips as he finished his Scotch. "Why?"

"I told her that it'd be in her best interest to just sign the papers at Blair House. I made it clear. She thinks you two can make this work, resume your term on a high note."

"Liv, why isn't this working? That's not why I sent you over there. You promised you'd get it done."

Giving Fitz a double take, knowing he didn't talk to her in that manner, she boldly replied, "Using me as a go-between won't suffice need to see her. Make it final. And don't you ever talk to me that way. I am not your proxy."

"I apologize."

"You should be."

Olivia waited for him to finish up. To give her what she wanted. A finite answer.

He sighed, placing his hand over his eyes. "Fine. I'll have Lauren call her secretary."

The relenting sigh was satisfying to hear. Fitz had a way of being stubborn, but if massaged a certain way, and given three options, he was able to be persuaded. Olivia knew she could use her convincing tactics to her advantage.

"Wonderful," she nodded. "Make sure you tell her."

"I want you to be there."

Olivia scoffed; crossing her arms, emphatically saying, "Absolutely not."

"Please?"

"I will not be in the room. Did our first meeting slip your mind? How argumentative and riled up you both were. Talking with her today was highly uncomfortable. This was not in my contract, Fitz. She told me to convince you because you listen to me. And what if…"

She stopped mid-sentence, holding back what she wanted to tell him.

"Liv?"

Sighing, she began to twist her ring, "I don't think it would be wise if I was in attendance."

Training their eyes, waiting for a breather. Fitz stepped forward. "I need someone on my side."

"Cyrus is. Your administration is supporting you."

He began to plead, "Yes. But...you are too."

"I am. But I don't know, Fitz."

"Think about it. I'm more level-headed when you're there."

Olivia jabbed, "That was the last attribute you used back in the cabin."

The two shared a laugh, Fitz sighing as he moved even closer.

Olivia closed her eyes, relishing his touch. "Honey," she whispered, while his hands found purchase on her sides. Adoring how he held her, she realized the meeting at Blair House was worth the few moments of privacy here.

"Wow."

"What?"

Fitz hummed in between kisses. "You look more beautiful every time I see you." 

Then, they realized their position in the room. Right above their heads — was the security camera.

"Shit," she whispered with immense disdain. "How do you get me over here?"

"We move well together. We don't pay attention," he joked, sneaking a kiss on her temple, "Come over here."

Allowing him to guide her towards the Resolute Desk, Olivia giggled as Fitz pressed his nose against her neck, one of her weak spots.

"Thank you for coming here. I was having a difficult time, not focusing when you're not around. You have a lasting affect on a man."

Breaking into a smile while Fitz leaned in to kiss her, Olivia replied, "Me too."

But per usual, reality kicked in and her phone rang. She patted his chest, then walked back into the view of the camera, retrieving the phone.

"Yeah? Okay." Shifting her gaze back towards a waiting Fitz, she added, "I'll be there soon."

Olivia cleared her throat. Back to work mode. "Remember to get that meeting on the books. I do not want to remind you, Mr. President."

"Smart aleck."

As she took one step outside the room, Olivia turned to pass along a smirk. "Smartass, Mr. President."

* * *

"Harrison, I need you to look up First Lady Mellie Grant. See if there is anything we need to know."

"Are you sure?"

Olivia didn't even pause. "We need leverage. I'll check myself. She's from North Carolina, met the President in Boston or something. Yale, Harvard. See why she needs to stay in the White House, with a flirtatious husband. What is making her tick. I need answers by noon tomorrow. They're meeting tomorrow night. Hopefully nothing too crazy will happen."

"Got it, Chief."

Her focus had to shift towards Mellie. Because it was getting harder. And if anyone slipped any damaging information about Fitz, Mellie would have the upper hand.

The burner rang. Olivia knew he was going to either give her some bad news or just wanted to talk. "Hello?"

"How are you?"

"I'm fine and yourself?"

"Just dandy."

Sprawled on the couch, with a book in her lap, instead of a briefing and files, Olivia smiled. Finally, another moment to herself and Fitz. It probably was weird, but her body became so relaxed when they talked.

"So…"

"So.." Her voice lowered a pitch, giving him a sultry echo. "What are you up to?"

Fitz laughed softly. "Doing something I should have done before. Right here, guys."

Olivia blew on the soup she made before having a taste. "And what is that?"

When he didn't answer, she got suspicious. The burner was already being a piece of crap. If only he could call her phone, they wouldn't be having issues.

Muting the television, she asked, "Fitz? Are you there?"

Still, no answer. Olivia checked the screen to see if they had disconnected or maybe he was walking through some obscure hallway that had limited reception.

A firm round of knocks hit the door. Checking the time, Olivia mentally did a quick rundown the list of people who could possibly be making a social visit at this hour. Harrison wouldn't have found anything so quickly. Abby would have sent a text before visiting. Her father wouldn't dare. He barely wanted to leave his comfy house after dinnertime.

"Fitz," she repeated on the phone, before walking over the door and opening the peephole. As soon as she looked, she gasped, stepping back, turning around to lean against the door. Desperately catching the breath she lost so suddenly.

 _He_ was knocking. Her humble apartment door was in the way of her and the President of the United States.

Then, she realized her surroundings were not qualified for him to enter. Ignoring her visitor, Olivia started to tidy the space.

He knocked again. "Liv?"

"Hold on!" Shuffling feet. Moving papers around. Taking a peek at her appearance. Already in her silk pajamas, Olivia realized it would have been useless to make him wait more. Turning the locks and opening the door, she smiled. Fitz looked so chill even though he was in the same suit as earlier. He just lost the tie.

"What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you, Olivia."

"But how—"

"My people."

Stunned, she stood motionless as Fitz confidently closed the door, placing his hands on her cheeks and kissed her.

"Hey, you."

"Whaaatt…"

Fitz continued his quest, wrapping his arm around her waist, bringing her closer to his chest.

"You do the absolute most."

"I know," he smirked with no remorse, "I can't stop thinking about you."

Olivia tilted her head, allowing Fitz to kiss her more. Deeper this time. She got bold and grabbed his ass, while their mouths created a new dance. By the time they stopped, they were on the couch, with all of her paperwork either on the floor, or crinkled underneath them.

"Did anyone notice?"

"Huh?"

Olivia asked, brushing her knuckle gently against Fitz's cheek, admiring the strong character of his face, "Is a camera crew outside? Like…you think if a motorcade is zooming up Connecticut or Wisconsin, someone is going to think something's up."

"I didn't take a motorcade and honestly, I don't care," his muffled reply against her skin.

Olivia wiggled.

"A fuck is not given by me."

"Maybe you should gather a few in the meantime."

Three hours later, after she shared her liquid dinner, and watching a sitcom, they dozed on the couch. But not before a few sassy comebacks after their tense conversation in the White House. Olivia knew how aroused she was; she wanted to do more. She wondered how he was in bed, or even how he could use that slick mouth of his. But she was grateful to have him by her side. She still had to use her patience or any kind of virtues that were still ingrained in her soul.

"I need to go."

"Why?"

"My agents shouldn't be sleep deprived on my watch."

Their eyes locked again. Olivia was waiting for him to make the next move. But Fitz smiled, continuing to rub his hands on her arm in comfort.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't want to forget anything about you."

"Stop."

"No. I don't have the luxury of having you with me at night. So I need to keep you in mind, sweet baby."

Olivia gasped, "That's the ring's name."

"Yes. That's you, Livvie. You're my Sweet Baby."

Fitz leaned in to kiss her again. But this time, just a slow, soft peck on her full lips.

"Okay. Thank you for waiting for me. I'm going to get this settled and I want you to be with me."

"That's a hell of a promise."

"You don't think I keep my word?"

Olivia raised her eyebrow, "You're a politician. I know how y'all can be."

"But you know me."

"I know what you want me to know."

Fitz slowly moved his hands down. "Well. If you want to know more, I'll tell you everything."

Olivia stood first, then gestured for his hand. She helped him up, walking him to the door.

"Just wait for me. Okay? Livvie, it will only be a little while longer," Fitz said, with pleading blue eyes that Olivia was continually finding hard to resist.

"Mmhmm. Sure thing."

Giving him one more firm hug, and a kiss on the cheek, Olivia said goodnight. Assuming they parked in the back alley, Olivia floated to the window, wanting to see them off. Just two Lincoln towncars with tinted windows strolled away, back to Connecticut Avenue.

She could feel her cheeks rise and feel warm the touch. In a daze, spoiled by Fitz, enchanted by his familiar scent that linger on her pajamas and skin, Olivia ready to call it a night. She got her fix in, so the team could have her full attention in the morning.

A flash of light bounced off the glass and she turned to see what was happening. To her dismay and horror, a simply-dressed man with a huge camera, was jetting to a car, which sped off.

Olivia's eyes widened. It only took five seconds to confirm what she had been dreading about for the last two months. Clenching the heavy fabric, Olivia pulled the curtains shut.

They were being watched.

And if so, for how long?

This was going to make tomorrow night more of a make or break for everyone involved.

Including herself.


	10. Chapter 10

Her first thought was to call him.

Every time she reached for the phone, Olivia decided against it. Holding on that she would get to the bottom of whatever this was, before talking to him. But this would be one more thing she didn't want Fitz to worry about, at least at that moment. It would be the worst thing to do.

As much as she was close to the public eye, anticipating unexpected turns with her clients, this was not what she had in mind, with being so close to the President. She had the key to jump ahead of problems; solving the issues and reducing the blows. Any tactic that got Olivia ahead of the curve, and win, was how she thrived.

But when she witnessed the flash from the photographer's massive camera, the tough layer that she secured within herself, melted away. Once the windows were shut, Olivia rushed to the door, securing both pairs of locks, highly disturbed. Four years of dodging the paparazzi, and only the client receiving attention, hadn't prepared her for the day ahead. Her plan of doing absolutely nothing — which was a rarity.

How was she going to inform her team and Fitz about the mysterious stranger downstairs? Without creating a tornado between them and the press… Share with the class that she was having a thing, fling, or some kind of emotional rendezvous with the President of the United States, automatically jeopardizing an already fucked up scenario.

More importantly, who sent the pap to the apartment complex? No one knew where she lived. Olivia made it impossible for anyone outside of her staff, parents, and closest friends, to find her.

Barely keeping her eyes closed, at 3:30 in the morning, she texted Stephen, demanding that he visit. Twenty minutes later, he was knocking on the door, with a bottle of Shiraz. The best kind of comfort gift.

"What's going on?

"We have an issue," she frantically replied, disappearing into the kitchen to find two large-bodied glasses. Stephen followed, opening the bottle. Without realizing, Olivia snatched the bottle away, pouring the tart liquid.

"Is it the Senator? Someone made a claim and is about to come forward? Is it your parents?"

She didn't answer, just moving about and rushing around with the full glass in her hand, which clued Stephen in on the severity.

"Liv? I can't help you if you don't tell me."

After drinking all of her wine, which worried him, Olivia admitted, "Someone was outside, taking pictures. Taking pictures of me."

"What?"

Stephen crossed to the window, peeking through the slit between the heavy curtains, finding clues or anything that could lead them to the right direction. "Where, Liv? What is going on?"

"I asked you to come over because I need to find out who was outside my apartment around 11:45."

"How did you know," he pondered, looking back at Olivia.

Crossing her arms defensively, she said, "Because I was looking out the window."

A little confused and annoyed by her vague responses, he asked, "Liv. You wouldn't have called me just to complain about some moron taking pictures. You're never shaken by cameras. Are you in trouble? You would tell me if something was wrong, right?"

Olivia didn't know how to break this to him; her heart was racing, making it harder for her to think properly. There was only so much she could spin before one of her closest friends would figure everything out. Like she told her clients, never lie.

"The President was here."

Stephen took his sweet time to finish the contents of his glass, then walked over to her, with a glare. "Fitzgerald Grant makes house calls now?"

When she looked down, he connected some dots.

"What the fuck, Olivia? You're not—you couldn't. Are you two screwing?"

"It's 2am. Lower your voice, and no, we are not."

"Then why is he coming here?"

"He wanted to talk."

Stephen furrowed his brows, "You couldn't do that over the phone?"

"I didn't know he was going to be here."

"He surprised you?"

Olivia stammered, lifting her hands in frustration, "Nothing is going on."

"Are you sure," Stephen's voice had risen, and was becoming more angry. "Because his case is already a mess as it is. We don't need anything else to ruin our chances of winning."

His interrogation was over the top and Olivia wasn't buying it. She didn't want to be attacked for how she was walking this course. To the best of her knowledge, she wasn't doing anything wrong. Could she have been wiser? Of course. But it wasn't the time to be reprimanded.

"Will you stop?"

"Why?"

"I am keeping my distance."

"Is that you call this? Getting close with the President," Stephen taunted.

Irritated, Olivia clarified, "I am not fucking him. I told him that I wouldn't cross that line until after he was divorced."

"Well, tell me what is going on?

"That's none of your business."

"When you include myself and my co-workers, and then ask me to visit you in the middle of the night, I think it does become my business."

Olivia directed Stephen to join her on the couch. "More wine?"

"If you're offering, I won't refuse."

A liquid peace offering. Stephen replied quietly, "I'm sorry for being out of line. I'm very concerned. Whatever you tell me, I won't judge."

"You will," Olivia smirked as she topped off her glass.

"Ok. Not as much."

If she revealed everything, at least Stephen would understand how conflicted she was, and then guide her with how to move forward. But it was still difficult to proceed. This was her dirty little secret.

"A few weeks after we met, we became friendly. Somehow I was confidant. Then...he would invite me-"

"Italy. Camp David. All of the trips?"

"Stephen, I need you to believe me."

"Did he ask you to come for work or personal reasons?"

"Italy, work. Camp David, both."

All Stephen could do was drink and that made her nervous. He always had something to stay, but he remained quiet, just nursing his glass. So, she followed his lead, hoping her favorite beverage would calm her or even provide courage to speak up and tell the truth.

"We've only kissed."

"Okay."

"I mean it," she reiterated, looking directly at Stephen. The judgment on his face was enough conviction. "I am doing everything in my power to keep this a secret."

"What about him?"

"Surprisingly," Olivia leaned back, taking a long breath, "He wants to pursue this. I told him that can't happen until the papers are signed. I'm already feeling guilty. But he likes me. We have a connection. I didn't think I'd end up here, but here we are."

Stephen gave a reassuring nod; "Why do you feel guilty? You know. He is separated. You can do what you want."

"That's a lie. I can't do what I want. One mistake, one wrong move, and I'm fucked. He may get a slap on the wrist but my career is tarnished. And I won't include you all in this. That's why I haven't been forthcoming, which I feel bad about, but at the same time, I would do the same thing all over again."

For a few minutes, they didn't talk. Stephen took their empty glasses to the kitchen, probably to have a moment to himself. Olivia sighed, closed her eyes. The weight of her secrets lifted, but only slightly. It felt good to reveal this to someone she trusted. But she was tired. She needed to go to bed.

"Get some sleep, Liv. Just… we'll take care of this."

"Thank you. I'll call Huck in the morning."

"I'll do that," Stephen answered, helping Olivia to stand. She could feel his eyes on her; observing if any signs of distress were present. "What's important is that you get sleep. I know you haven't gone to bed yet. Do you want me to stay?"

Olivia declined, giving him a faint smile. "That's okay. But I appreciate you coming here at this ungodly hour. Make sure you sleep in."

"We want to make sure you're taken care of, girl."

* * *

Sleep was but a dream; worry overtook her thoughts as she laid in bed. Each hour was worse than the one prior.

Then, Olivia couldn't wait any longer.

Slowly dialing his number, she began to doubt her intentions again. Was it worth the hassle to bug him, tell him about a situation that might only be in her head, making something out of nothing. Or maybe he wouldn't pick up. But as far she knew, she was the only one who had that access to the burner. He had to know the truth, then they could move forward. And he wouldn't not talk to her. He told her that she was his favorite person to unwind with at night. Or in the morning. Or whenever they could connect.

"Livvie?"

His sleepy voice was beautiful to hear, but for the wrong reasons.

She didn't answer, but wanted to blurt out everything at once.

"What's wrong? Liv. Please, talk to me. You can talk to me."

"I think someone knows you were at my place last night."

"That can't be," Fitz rebutted. "I had to compromise with my guys to let me get over there. Undisclosed cars. We were under the radar."

"A photographer was outside. His lens was focused on me."

"But—"

"It was almost midnight, Fitz. Why would anyone be outside at that time of night with a fancy camera, with a long lens? Hmm? What if you had been followed? What if someone had connected the dots from a prior event? Have you stopped to think about how we've playing too close to fire?"

The months of dipping into the proverbial cookie jar, mixing pleasure with business, was becoming a danger to his divorce proceedings, and ultimately her career.

Fitz cursed, before apologizing.

"Livvie. I'm sorry."

"Are you? Because we could be in deep trouble and I need to find some answers."

"Can you come in the morning or afternoon?"

Olivia began to pace the floor, working through several plans in her head, but equally concerned that Fitz wasn't understanding. She didn't need to see him and get distracted; she needed to talk. "I don't think that's possible. Did you schedule your meeting? With your wife?"

"I did," he groaned. "7 o'clock. Thanks for reminding me."

"Good."

"You're deliberately avoiding my question. Can you? I think you should still stop by. Come over around noon? I can make lunch and we can do whatever you'd like."

"This isn't an excuse for a date, Fitz. I need to get to the bottom of this. So, if you could assist me to figure who would want proof of you visiting my apartment, that would be excellent."

"Do you need me to cancel with Mellie? I'll do it. This is the last thing I want to deal with. I'd rather spend time with you. You know that, right?"

Why they weren't making strides was frustrating. Olivia hissed, "What you need to do is keep up with the schedule you have for the day. Stay focused. If you do that, then I won't feel like I'm being stalked in the middle of the night because the President wants to play hookie."

She was exhausted with his attitude towards this. Just because he had the power to downplay something serious, didn't mean she could.

"Wow. If that's how you truly feel," an exasperated Fitz replied. "Just come at 1. We will get this taken care of. Trust me, okay?"

Olivia let the words sink in, before hanging up. For some reason, she always had a habit of never saying "goodbye" after a conversation on the phone. Maybe the word was too final. If she didn't say it, then the person on the other line would never go away, or disappear on her.

* * *

Huck was notified of the situation and gave a promise to Olivia that he would find the person or group of individuals responsible for the photographer. That gave her some time to shower, find something comfortable and appropriate to wear for a visit to 1600 Penn. As stubborn as she was, she decided to still go to see him.

To her surprise, she had no problem getting inside; the guard and agents didn't question her appearance, but instead, directed her to where she needed to go.

One particular agent, Carl, escorted her to the second floor. Moving through secret hallways and forbidden doors, Olivia felt her heart grow heavy. This wasn't on the docket.

She was instructed to wait in the parlor. Two closed doors on either side of her; being left alone in the private quarters of the President was a little intimidating. The thought of being seen here was abysmal. But she knew in his mind, she was meant to be where he could be. He did visit her home. Why couldn't she do the same with him?

"Hi."

Olivia turned to find Fitz walking in, in a Navy t-shirt and jeans, that nicely fit his long legs. Something about him in a casual outfit was very sexy, but she kept her cool.

"Hi."

As if her heart disconnected from her mind, Olivia immediately stood to greet him. His grin was wide, opening his arms for her. Exhaling a deep sigh, Olivia closed the gap between them. Breathing him in, falling into a strange kind of peace.

"I'm surprised you actually came," he said in her ear. "You didn't seem to be as eager this morning."

Olivia mumbled, "I changed my mind. I need you."

"I need you."

She looked into his eyes, yearning for more, but knowing they could only do so much. So, they stood there in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around each other. Being alone, momentarily dropping any concern of being caught by disapproving parties.

Exchanging weakness for strength, comfort instead of worry. Connecting on a new level that they hadn't reached before. Fitz kissed her forehead several times, while Olivia rubbed his back, counting down the seconds for when they had to discuss why she came.

Reluctantly peeling away from his warm embrace, Olivia took his hand in hers, and led him to the loveseat.

"Okay," she started, not as ready to share the information.

Miraculously, Olivia succinctly described the implications of any pictures being sold to the media. Mellie could use the product as ammo. It would be nails in his coffin, bringing more drama for Fitz and the remainder of his term. Contradicting everything he had said during his interviews. Also, it would bring a negative light for his team, specifically herself.

"Aren't you frustrated?"

Fitz let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead. "Of course. Do you know how long I've waited to not be here married anymore? I'm so damn close and it's as if she and others don't want me to be happy."

"Don't give up," Olivia reminded him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "May I ask you a question? Why here? And not the Oval?"

She was confused, wondering how his logic could turn into foolish hope, when he was with her.

"Because our conversation is private in nature, and I don't want it to be questioned. You wanted to talk, I made sure that could happen uninterrupted. I spoke with my agents."

The sentence piqued Olivia's interest. "Hal and Tom?"

"Yes, I asked them. There was footage of us, but only are a few seconds."

"Of us hugging?"

Fitz confirmed, but only nonchalantly, "Nothing worth fretting about. But, I hear what you're saying. I'll be more careful. My guys are loyal; they are looking out for me. You too, Livvie."

"Thank you. My team is working to bring me answers, so we can curtail any pictures from getting leaked."

"And I didn't cancel," he said, patting her leg. "I'm going to talk to her and remind her of what will happen if she doesn't sign. Does that work for you?"

Olivia leaned against him, willing to be satisfied with his plan. "Okay."

"Now that we have discussed, would you like a tour?"

"Why do you think I'm interested in that?"

Fitz stood, well-aware of Olivia's snarky comeback. "I had a feeling that my favorite person in the world might want to see my place."

Who knows when she would be able to visit again, so with a glimmer in her eye, she took his hand, and allowed him to lead the way.

Grabbing a snack in the kitchen, then off to the TV room, checking out the massive dressing room.

Fitz opened the final door, and Olivia stepped in.

"This is my room."

"Cozy," she smiled.

Fitz extended his arms, "I try to make it work, Livvie. Come here."

Olivia sat down at the door of the bed. "This is nice."

"I'm sorry for getting you into this mess," he softly spoke, rubbing his nose against hers.

"We'll get through this, Fitz. Trust me," she promised, before capturing his lips. Their kisses escalating to a feverish level, pulling them down towards the mattress. His hands touching her neck, arms, the inside of her thigh, while the heat of the moment led Olivia to straddle him, gyrating in a way that made him gasp and moan. The privacy they were having was a turn on for her.

"I love you."

She jerked back, very alarmed, before realizing Fitz noticed.

"What?"

A quick response as she scooted off of him — "Nothing."

"It's something," he replied, lowering his voice. Turning over on his side to face Olivia, his hand found purchase on her stomach. "I care about you, so much. I. Love. You."

Olivia was finding it so hard to accept, but she knew that's how he felt about her. In a way, she was grateful. Not wanting to admit how whenever he mentioned Mellie and subsequently dodging the truth about them, hope would diminish. She knew how politicians could be. Hell, men. Saying anything to get a smile or keep the other person to stick around.

But in the time that she had gotten to know him, Olivia knew Fitz wasn't the kind of man who would drag her emotions along, just for shits and giggles, and leave her in the dust. He meant what he said.

"Did I say it too soon?"

"No. I wasn't expecting it. At all."

"I'm sorry, baby. But I'm with you, all the way."

Olivia reached to touch his face. "Thank you."

A long moment had passed. They found themselves cuddling, legs tangled, and enjoying the quiet. Olivia closed her eyes, already feeling better from the morning. Fitz seemed to be her elixir.

"When this is over, I'm going to take you out. Wherever you want to go. Continue to spoil you like the queen you are, Livvie."

Olivia rolled her eyes. She wanted to believe every word he said, but this kind of promise was out of bounds.

"That's what you want to do?"

Fitz gave her a lazy smile. "Of course."

Shaking her head, Olivia sat up, smoothing her hair down. "I see."

"What now?"

"Since you want to help me, here's something you can do. Handle the current situation you have with your wife. Because right now, she still is your wife. Then, and only then, you will have a chance of being able to see and handle this. Call me when you get home from Mellie's."

Olivia left a surprised Fitz on the bed; a knowing smirk creeping through on her face. He was going to do everything that she told him to do.

* * *

The guys arrived at Olivia's an hour after her visit at the White House. They were given a vague description of the night before. Huck, one of the best IT professionals on the East Coast, was already searching for any irregular activity on Connecticut Avenue. Red light cameras, footage from the concierge's desk. Anything that could lead to a break.

"Got his face," Huck explained, typing away. "Made the mistake of looking up right after he took the picture. I'll work on the image and find a name for you."

Harrison came from the kitchen, with a huge bowl of popcorn and three sodas.

"So, what's your plan?"

Olivia handed two folders to Harrison. "If this creep is associated with the case we're working on, I don't want it to get any press or attention. I need it shut down before it reaches any news outlet, or better yet, Mellie Grant. Five leads are listed right there, just in case."

"Liv, what's really going on? It's a different take than before. What's the rush?"

"Someone thinks we're getting a little too close to the President. What he's doing is not popular, by any means. Who really wants a divorced Commander in Chief, and then worry about his future dating life, while having the most important job in the country. Any of us could be a threat."

"Got it!"

Olivia and Harrison stood behind Huck, as he explained.

"Rick Stanley. A freelance photographer, based in Arlington. His cell number is right there. Should we call?"

Immediately reaching for her phone, Olivia announced, "I'll call. Let's get to the bottom of this."

Two rings later, someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Yes, I'm calling to find out why you were taking pictures at the Barrington Court Apartments at 11:34 last night?"

"Who is this?"

"My question is who are you? For spying on private citizens? Who sent you and where is the SD card?"

"Excuse me?"

Olivia toughened up, "You were hired by someone to grab a few pictures and sell it to blackmail President Fitzgerald Grant. Is that correct?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Stop lying. You're already going to face charges if you aren't cooperative."

"Listen, I was just asked to scope the area and take any shots that I found interesting. That's all," Rick offered defensively.

Huck gestured to move the conversation slightly, writing a few notes for Olivia to read.

"We need the SD card, so it can be destroyed."

"I ain't snitchin' and I need the money."

"I will send one of my people to you, in exchange for the amount you're looking for. You will meet him in thirty minutes at Woodley Park. Right outside the Zoo."

"How do I know this is real?"

Olivia snarled, "Because I don't lie and you will most likely appreciate that I don't. A man with dark hair and purple suspenders will be outside the Zoo gate, with $1500 in cash. Thirty minutes. If not, we will find you and there will be worse consequences. It will be certain that you will never be able to work in this area again."

After hanging up, she told Huck and Harrison, "Let's go."

The three traveled in Harrison's sedan, parking a block away from the National Zoo. Olivia instructed Harrison to ask for the SD card, then give the cash, then sign a contract, stating that no photos would be copied or sold to anyone.

The transaction occurred without a hitch.

Back at the office, Huck scanned the gallery. Olivia waited nervously, hoping that nothing scandalous would be seen, even though she knew that nothing happened.

"The pics were only of you, by the window."

"Anyone else?"

"Just you."

"I don't believe it. What if he saved the pics he wanted, then deleted them off the card," Olivia suggested. "I need you two to make sure there are no other pictures."

Seven o'clock came and went, and Olivia hadn't heard from Fitz. What if the meeting went to hell?

Huck knocked on her office door.

"Hey. Are you hungry? You've been in here for a few hours now."

"No," Olivia said, always in awe that Huck would always make sure she was taken care of. "Any updates?"

"Liv. I know who hired the Rick guy. His name is Billy Chambers. Somehow he's associated with Amanda Tanner. Maybe looking for some revenge for what happened with the President."

"Not Mellie?"

"No, but he has been sending information to her camp. They are trying to come up with a story to sell to the media that President Grant is currently seeing someone else, messing up any hope of Mellie's wish to stay married."

Harrison walked in, "Liv. Some guy from the White House is here."

Olivia raced to the door, not even having time to slip her ballet flats back on. It could be a messenger from Fitz. But alas, it was that smug Jake Ballard, from the White Press Corps, standing in her hallway.

"Hello, Olivia," he greeted, extending his hand sharply.

Being cordial, she returned the handshake. "Yes, I met you on the flight to Italy. What can I do for you and how did you know that I was here?"

"I have my sources."

Olivia side eyed him, "I see." Something was off, and she didn't like it.

"I came to see if you have any word about the Grants?"

"What about them?"

Jake chuckled, "Don't play coy, Miss Pope. The falling out. We haven't seen the First Lady since last month. Not at the White House. The public needs to know."

Olivia put her hands on her hips, looking him square in the eye. "The public or you? Are you looking for an earth-shattering headline? Or first dibs to a story?"

He answered, "Actually, that would be a great thing. It's been awful quiet in our office, and any juicy bits you could give would be much obliged."

Twisting her lips, she asked, "Are we on the record?"

"We don't have to be."

Jake's response was exactly what she wanted to hear. Confirming that he was only there to find information to assist his trajectory in the Press Corps. She had that feeling since being on Air Force One. An opportunistic ass.

"I need you should come back on Monday morning, during official business hours, and we can discuss."

"Why," he asked. "I'm right here."

The phone rang. Olivia excused herself to the conference room.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey, Livvie. I just left Blair House. We need to talk. My place?"

Taking a deep breath, she replied, "Okay. Let me get some things settled at work. See you soon."

"So, what's the deal," Jake asked.

Before Olivia could answer, Harrison turned on the TV, just in time for all in the room to hear the opener.

_President Fitzgerald Grant was seen in DuPont Circle last night, sans his wedding band. Sources, who only wanted to talk on the terms of anonymity, say his finger has been bare for several weeks. And where is Mellie? The Southern belle has been keeping a low profile since the announcement was made about their separation. Tonight, we received footage of the President leaving Blair House with a hefty folder in his hand. Is divorce eminent for the First Couple? Will Fitz and Mellie survive? Stay tuned._

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

Her doe-like eyes grew bigger as the words moved across the screen again. Everything she worked on keeping a secret, was beginning to leak. It may have been rumors; but rumors always had an element of truth. The press would now have more clues with an exact date of the Grants' marital dissolution. The President wanted this to go quickly and quietly. But at this rate, if she didn't have a plan, that would not happen in the timely fashion she desired.

Worried, Olivia repeated the lines in her head, reviewing key phrases, as the ticker continued to scroll.  _Dupont Circle._  That means he was being followed. Using taxpayer dollars to venture off somewhere that was not authorized.  _A folder._  What kind of folder? What couldn't it be a black folder or briefcase? Not the bright manilla that glared on television sets. And the kicker was  _MIA Mellie._  What happened to the events they were supposed to attend together? Every minute that she was not in view, would lead to another question. Was she being sent away?

All of the minutia she set in place was falling by the wayside. Was there anything the First Couple could do by themselves? Did she have to micromanage everything? Where was Cyrus and Rob? Olivia was already drafting options D, E, and F in her mind. But she couldn't place total blame on the parties, especially when she had been distracted by the subject — her client, who had become the most important man in her orbit.

The time to overanalyze had passed, so now she had to focus on the important questions to proceed.

How and why and most importantly, who? Who let this happen?

"Did no one get a call in the last hour about this," she mumbled to Harrison and Abby, who were standing next to her, and in turn, were equally confused and mortified.

"No."

Olivia pursed her lips, lowering her gaze to the phone, checking to see if any new texts came through. Nothing. She was infuriated but she had to remember where she was and who was watching her. She couldn't blow up. Having a member of the Press Corps standing at an arm's length was particularly inconvenient. Returning to her surprise guest, Olivia calmly stated, "Mr. Ballard, I apologize, but we will need to end this meeting, or whatever this is."

Jake did not look amused; shaking his head, he questioned, "How come? This is a hell of a breaking story. You appear to be the eye of the storm and it seems to me that I'm in the right place, at the perfect time. So spill it. What's going on with the President?"

Narrowing her eyes while smiling disingenuously, Olivia gave a surprising answer. "Monday morning. You will have something to write about. Good night."

"You're hiding something."

Already walking towards the office and clearly not giving a shit, and not wanting to let her eyes fail her, she repeated but with volume, "Monday morning."

"If you're lying, Miss Pope, I will have no choice to expose you and your 'team', and investigate."

Olivia didn't appreciate the threat, but she remained calm.

"Thank you, Mr. Ballard, and good night."

Harrison rushed over to escort Jake to the door; comically, the reporter was still bickering as Olivia waved, with a sarcastic flair. Once the elevator took him away, she frowned. The team was waiting to hear what she had to say.

"What the fuck? Why are we behind? This is not the plan and now we will need to catch up and get ahead of the media. Fucking A."

Olivia turned away to the wall; it took her a minute to collect her thoughts. Anyone who had worked with her for longer than six months, knew that if she needed sixty seconds, the requested would be honored immediately. It was rare for her to break down, or have a moment where she felt discombobulated. So in silence, her staff waited.

"What should we do," Huck asked quietly, while The whole team facing her, looking for wisdom and ultimately, a decision. This wasn't new, but the magnitude was greater than she had experienced. Her words and actions would either catapult them to historical proportions or destroy all the work they had made in their four years of existence.

"I need answers, like last week. Abby, call the station now. Break them down to find out who their source is. Harrison, get to Blair House. Huck, find the photographer. That bastard. Quinn? Man the phones. I will get a hold of Cyrus."

Olivia's voice resonated; the strong-willed leader was back, confidence exuding from her petite being. Each person nodded or gave the appropriate response, which was always yes. Like the coach, motivational speaker, and kick-ass boss she was born to be, Olivia ended the powwow with a memorable statement. "All cylinders go. Let's go, people!"

Grabbing her purse, slipping on her HBIC heels, Olivia headed for 1600 Pennsylvania. Thankfully, her route was easy, and she could park easily. Saturday nights must have been a lull, but she was grateful.. She had to refrain from slamming her hard pass into Morris' face, but she had to get inside. A few minutes later, Olivia was inside, and on her way to Cyrus' office. If anyone had a clue, it would be him.

His door was ajar; organizing folders on his desk. The nerve of the Chief of Staff to give the appearance of complete serenity during a pivotal moment that could derail the plan they agreed upon, months prior. Olivia didn't have time for small talk, interjecting before the secretary could officially greet her.

"I need to speak to Cyrus. Now."

The power in her voice, demanding access, made the woman leap out of her seat and make a beeline to the door.

"Yeah?"

"Sir, Miss Pope is here."

Olivia could see Cyrus waving her in. His smile did not make anything better; she didn't have a problem with lashing out or revealing her anger.

Surprisingly cool, he greeted, "Liv…"

"Don't Liv me."

"Now, don't be mad."

"Mad," she asked, slammed her purse on the chair. "How can I not be upset when I see unauthorized information on BNN? Would you be able to explain why I saw what I saw along with thousands of others? Explain. Do it right now."

Cyrus stood, crossing to the window. "It wasn't me."

"Then who was it?"

Olivia waited for Cyrus to answer.

"I think someone has been following them. The President and First Lady. Getting tipped."

Eyelashes batting, Olivia tried to not lunge across the desk and give him a piece of her mind.

"Did they call you to confirm this? Is there proof? So, no one wanted to tell me before this information was sent to the BNN, so I look like a damn fool in front of the Press Corps," she hissed. As she paced the room, Olivia contemplated. What was the point of being hired by the White House if they couldn't do their damn job so she could her damn job? "I didn't drive here on a Saturday night to be... You know what? Never mind. I'm going to talk to him later."

Cyrus questioned, "When? I didn't know we were meeting. That wasn't on my calendar."

Stopping in her tracks, Olivia remembered that he wasn't privy to this added layer. She didn't want to lie, but it would have been chaotic if she slipped any information about their personal relationship.

"He said he would call to brief me on his meeting with the First Lady."

She watched his eyes while remaining calm.

"Great," he said, returning to the task at hand. "Let me know what he says if he calls you first. But I'm usually the one who gets the info first. But if he doesn't reach me before the stroke of midnight, then, oh, well. You can handle it just fine, Liv. Because I do not work on Sundays. Ever."

"What do you do?"

"I sleep. Tend to the garden. James always wants to take a day trip or walk around Georgetown or Annapolis. But fuck that. I do what I want on Sundays. The only day," he replied, while closing his eyes. Probably daydreaming of his perfect time alone.

Olivia smiled politely, before turning on her heel.

If he only knew.

* * *

She waited in her office, until the coast was clear. All she needed, wanted, was a minute to herself. Running on a few hours of sleep and not enough caffeine, Olivia could feel her eyelids droop. Slipping off her heels and collapsing in the chair, she leaned back, and exhaled. This space of hers was all of a month long and she never had the opportunity to enjoy how comfortable it was. Fitz was doing a lot for her. There was no reason to do so. Under the guise of special counsel, being an advisor. Helping him and his team get over this personal hump.

The consistent buzz in her purse prompted her to reach for the phone. One missed call and a text message.

Both from Fitz.

_Where are you?_

_Can we talk?_

_Liv?_

The time stamp read 9:21. Fifteen minutes prior. So at least she got that much rest.

I'm here. In the office that you insisted I use for "work".

The landline immediately rang. Olivia allowed it to ring three times before she picked up.

"What?"

"Hi."

Olivia noticed the pattern. When the conversation started with that two-letter word. A phrase that was so simple but profound, Olivia could remember why she was doing all of this.

"Were you asleep?"

"Sort of."

"Can you meet me upstairs?"

The invitation was appealing but too much was going on, and there was no time for cutesy gestures.

Olivia interrupted, "Have you seen the news?"

"About?"

"Your whereabouts tonight."

Fitz let out a lingering deep sigh as he replied, "No, I haven't."

Olivia began to write furiously on the notepad on her desk.

"It can't be that bad. I only requested a car. My guys couldn't let that happen and sent out two. I tried to be subtle."

"You're kidding, right? The mere thought of being the most watched individual in Washington didn't cross your mind? That no one would notice? Just like how you happened to stop by and a photographer was watching us? I wouldn't have lambasted your chief of staff if it wasn't an issue."

"You told Cyrus?"

Olivia sucked her teeth, "No. I was making a point."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Can we talk? My living room."

"I don't know how to get there," she remarked. "Anyone could be out in the hall and I will not deal with that. Do you know that Jake Ballard came to my office and asked about you two? I was caught off guard."

Fitz said, "I doubt anyone will be here. Two, they all need to mind their business. Jake Ballard is just trying to do his job, I suppose. But that doesn't matter. Come to my office and I'll help you along."

Olivia felt the smile she had misplaced, form on her lips, as she lowered the receiver. Taking her purse, she quietly migrated to the Oval Office. Just as she walked past the secretary's desk, the door opened. He was only in his dress shirt and slacks. Tie was gone. Sleeves rolled to the middle of his forearms. Quite casual. His eyes glowed at the sight of her. As much as she wanted to act like he didn't matter, it was like she couldn't breathe.

When he closed the door, Olivia walked around the perimeter of the room, so the cameras would miss her presence. Fitz led her pass through the doorway that traveled to the private residence. While they took the short elevator upstairs, they held hands. They didn't speak, but all the contact between their fingers was all she needed. He could feel her anxiety, frustration. His hands provided comfort and understanding. But together, trust was flowing.

As they exited the service elevator, Olivia turned to face Fitz, "What did you want to talk about?"

"One minute?"

Letting her shoulders drop, she agreed. Their eyes locked. Still holding hands, they breathed deeply. In sync.

"Fitz…"

"I had to tell you in person."

"What is it?"

"I made some leeway."

"Okay and?"

The faint spark of hope was stirring as Olivia waited for Fitz's response.

"She wants a few things before we are officially done. I told her that I would do my best to make that happen before..."

Interrupting, Olivia spoke, "She didn't sign."

"Livvie..."

"You had me come upstairs for this fucking shit?"

Fitz attempted to speak, but she already could tell that what he was going to tell would disappoint her immensely.

Olivia's eyebrows lowered as she snarled. "Are you kidding me?"

"But Liv. I need time."

"You said three months. How long has it been, Fitz? I've given you time. We have been trudging through this PR slop and this is where we have ended up? How am I supposed to cover your visit? You're wasting my time. You're wasting my team's time. Time is money. I could be with other clients, putting my heart and soul into my work. But you have to be dragging your feet."

The mutual glare was deadly; Fitz's blue eyes were icy, while her chocolate irises, shot beams of fire.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Who else is going to call you out on your shit."

Fitz rolled his eyes and explained, "She's skeptical."

"Of what?"

With a sigh, he announced, "She thinks you're the reason I'm pushing for this so hard."

"Excuse me?"

"A woman's intuition, I suppose."

Olivia scoffed as she turned away. Pivoting back, she harshly whispered, "I have remained at a distance, Fitz. I work for you. I did sign up for this! I have done everything to not make it seem that we're a thing."

Fitz replied, "I'm sorry. I guess you didn't think that we would...have a connection. Something so real. And just so you know, I wouldn't change this for anything."

His answer shocked her. Olivia stammered, "You don't mean that. Take it back."

"I love you, Livvie. I would give it all up for you. It's possible to fall in love with someone in so short of a time. I'm guilty of that."

It made her heart swell, to hear him speak so candidly. Was this all worth it? To be part of a tangled and messy situation, to come out with the hope of being with the President?

Olivia raced to the loveseat, jotting down notes. Looking up, she stated, "We need Mellie to reappear."

"Why?"

"So we can buy ourselves time. That's why. Do you want the press to be in all of your business? Seeing who you've been seeing? They're going to find out. Determine why you used taxpayer dollars to visit Camp David and Italy to rendezvous with?"

"Ok, Liv."

Even with Fitz's plea of exasperation, Olivia was not going to stop there; with a determined glare, she pointed her finger at the President. Inwardly gratified by the surprise on his face.

"This whole roundabout way to get your result will not work. You need to follow everything I recommend. It is for your benefit. You and your team need to tell me every move and countermove. I will not be left in the dark. You need to find a way to get your soon-to-be ex-wife to the White House, so the journey towards your single life will transition easily. When you decide, you tell me."

Fitz slowly inserted his hands into his pockets, looking down. When he met Olivia's eyes, he replied, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes," he confirmed, lips twisting into a sly grin. "I do not want to disappoint the lady in my life."

* * *

Olivia spent all of Sunday devising a particular agenda for a press conference. The First Lady would be invited for a few hours, with numerous photo opportunities with the President. To give the public a view of how they working on their marriage. To pad the blows of the immense distance. After a few large glasses of wine, a hearty plate of fried chicken and string beans, and a three-hour conversation with Harrison and Abby, she was ready for the next morning.

Calling the news outlets, presenting a great timeline for the First Couple, and that they couldn't miss anything. It would be a morning of wonderful news. Wearing a black power suit, hair pressed straight, makeup neutral, with a dusty pink lipgloss, she was prepared to set the plan in motion.

"Good morning, Liv."

"Cyrus."

The two met in Olivia's office. The Chief of Staff had placed his cell phone on the desk, leaning back in the chair. "Everything going well? I did not hear from you yesterday."

Shoulders rising, she smiled. "Splendid. The President and I came to terms with a soft entrance for the First Lady to return. Make some precious moments, while giving away a few hints that this will move quickly. A clean break. Plus, you were very adamant about not being disturbed on your day off."

Cyrus chuckled, "You're right. Always the attentive one. I would hope. She has been...difficult, to say the least."

Olivia nodded. "I would be too if I was in her position. But we have a client to take care of, and I intend to do that. Make sure everything works out well."

An hour later, members of the press were sitting in the East Room, awaiting Fitzgerald and Melody Grant to enter. Olivia stood in the hallway, frantically messaging Stephen, as well as taking a quick call from a few TV assistants, wanting to secure any interviews. Not that she wanted to be on the screen; but it was her duty as a public servant, a messenger of truth, that she stay in the light, and give the press what they wanted.

Exclusive information.

The Secret Service agents came out of nowhere, so she knew that the man and woman of the hour would appear momentarily.

Mellie entered first; in a green dress, with a matching shrug. She had this powerful aura.

"Good morning, Olivia. I'm glad you joined us."

Olivia greeted, "Good morning. It is always a pleasure and honor to be serving you."

Something was off; their interactions, rare, were colder.

Fitz entered, prompting everyone to stand. Olivia did not bother to make longer eye contact with him. He smiled while she nodded, as he escorted Mellie into the room. Everyone stood as they entered. Olivia snuck to the back, in a catty-corner, far enough from view, but easily noticed by the one she wanted to pay attention to.

The Grants welcomed their guests, as the President started his talk about an initiative about education. As he spoke, he made a habit of softly glancing at Olivia. But she didn't relax her stoic pose; constantly reaching for her phone, to type any key phrases. With Mellie standing next to him, Fitz announced of a plan to incorporate more access, bigger budgets, with concrete ways to include every school with every child who attended. The applause was immense.

"I am putting my reputation on the line," Fitz remarked, hands firmly bracing the podium. "We want this for our nation's children. Mellie and I would like to present - the Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the IV Foundation."

Olivia made eye contact with Jake Ballard. With a smug look, he copied notes on his pad. This would be a great diversion, especially with the rare occasions of mentioning the baby that the world never had the pleasure of knowing.

"We are naming this after our late son, who you may know, was lost due to a horrible car accident. Our baby did not get a chance, but we want to make sure children who live in our country do."

Mellie stepped forward to recall her days as a teacher's assistant in North Carolina, as well as visiting schools during their campaign and active service as First Lady. The press was inhaling every word she spoke. Without skipping a beat, she engaged her audience. Olivia noticed Fitz's difficulty in staying focused on Mellie. When they made quick eye contact, Olivia made a gesture to stay on track and look at the woman speaking. It didn't take much for him to straighten up. The hold she had on this man.

The remainder of the announcement was well received. Olivia smiled to herself, it wasn't ideal. But they were on board. The news cycles would feature the visuals of the Grants together, as well as promote this new foundation.

As Olivia was making her way back to her office, turning the corner, she heard the Grants talking. Or arguing. She quickly took a step back, by a wall, to listen in.

"No."

"You don't have to lie."

"I am not."

"Then why has she been by your side for the last three months? Why am I hearing through the grapevine that you are falling for her?"

"She has been a godsend, helping me get through all of this. In the process she has become my friend. Because I surely can't confide in you anymore. I care about her."

Mellie waved him off, "Give me a break. That's how Amanda got started. I'm not blind, Fitz. I know you were looking at her throughout this juvenile dog and pony."

"Do not go there. I am done. I will always care for you. But I do not love you and I do not want to be married to you anymore," Fitz answered, lowly and firmly. "I will give you whatever you want. The house in California. Alimony. If you want to keep Grant as your last name, that's fine. But I need to be free."

"Why is there a rush? Let's come to an agreement and part ways after your term is over. We don't have to live together. Just married in name only. Nothing more. But we cannot endure another scandal before your term is up."

Fitz breathed deeply. "When I told you that I wanted a divorce, there was no one. I chose to not pursue anyone until after we separated. How about you? Aren't you tired of this? We can announce it when you're ready. We have people who can expedite this. Let's do this, so we can move on."

Olivia watched Mellie massaged her temples. Surprisingly, the usual cheery tones of her voice dropped to an icy alto.

"If I decide to get into politics, I will want your support."

"Okay."

"And if you get remarried during your Presidency, she — whoever she is — cannot have Grant as her last name."

"What? Who gives you that right?"

"Is she going to be First Lady?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

The furious pace of banter was more than uncomfortable, unbearable to be precise. Olivia grimaced, but curiosity was taking the lead, luring her to hear what else could be used as ammunition or an opportunity to bring more to light.

"Then show me some respect and allow me to have something that connects to what I've accomplished since law school and California."

Fitz's nose scrunched. "What does that have to do with the last name?"

"No one knows Melody Carmichael. They know Melody Grant. I have worked too hard to have that all torn down because the man I married has no use for me."

"Stop making this about you," he spat. "We are through. Keep the name, or don't. But you will let this go. My team will make sure that you sign the papers."

"The fuck I won't," Mellie snapped, "You will not take this from me, Fitzgerald. I am the reason you are here and I will make sure that if I fall, you will fall."

"Try me."

The fire in the President's eyes rocked Olivia to her core. Neither was playing games, and it truly scared her. Before she could be seen, she slipped off her heels and ran off.

Was she a mistress? The other woman? Is that how Fitz viewed her? A replacement? Like Amanda Tanner, a fucking rebound? She had no desire for that. But that was her reward for eavesdropping. She rushed to gather her things and got the hell out of the White House. In a daze, Olivia drove past the office and found herself back at the apartment. Texts from her team were rushing in but she didn't bother to check. Attempting to create another plan, while twisting the ring that became the token of his affection. It needed to be off of her finger.

Then, he called, and as much as she wanted to keep ignoring, she knew he wouldn't let up.

"Liv? Where did you go?"

"I had to work on something."

"Are you here?"

Olivia didn't respond.

"Okay, I'll be right over."

"No," she repeated, with a mixture of frustration, desperation, and nerves. "You cannot come here."

"Liv, did I do something wrong?"

"Stop. Just give me a minute."

Closing her eyes, Olivia began to take deep breaths. It was still comforting to have him on the line, but he was part of the problem. Too much happening, not enough hours to maintain order, and sleep. The photographer could still be an issue. Then, hearing his wife accuse her of being the other woman.

"What do you need?"

"I have to go. You need to leave me alone."

Fitz's voice began to crack. "Livvie, talk to me. I can't let you out of my life."

"We need to focus on what's going on. Your marriage. The state in which it is being shown to the world. Now, if you will excuse, I need to work. My office will be in touch."

"I'll come get you. Please. I don't want you to be alone. We need to talk."

"Do not."

And with that, Olivia had no problem with disconnecting the call. She had to be honest with her emotions. The distinct separation between her work and personal life, with the man who connected the two, was no longer.

* * *

"Miss Pope, we can't leave without you."

"Please go away."

Several rounds of loud knocks against her door were beyond excruciating. Annoying. And  _he_ was the reason this was happening. Olivia stormed to the door, barefoot, nearly tearing the door off its hinges, to reject his boys and send them back to 1600.

The door was midway shut when Hal pleaded, "Ma'am." The agent tried to empathize through his eyes. "Just give him a few minutes of your time and we will make sure you get home safely. He won't let up."

Olivia turned away to dry her face. She was frustrated, but unable to keep saying no. They were wearing her down. "Fine."

How dare he? Embarrass her in front of her neighbors, who most likely saw the limousines in the alley, the men in suits with ear pieces. It wasn't what she wanted. But was any of this what she wanted?

Now she was furious.

She didn't say a word as they drove back to the White House. There were other ways. Just leaving her alone for a day or two, so she could get back on track, emotionally and mentally. Why couldn't him give her the courtesy? Was it true that whatever the President wants, he gets?

The agents led her through a back alley that she had never seen before. A few minutes later, she was back in the private residence. Fitz was sitting, looking at the ceiling. When he turned his head and saw Olivia, he bolted up.

"Don't," she spat. "This is not the time."

Fitz continued to walk closer, but didn't move forward, as if to embrace her. But to just talk.

"I know this is hard."

"Do you," Olivia whispered harshly, meeting his eyes with hurt filled her own. "I need results so I can do my job. And you aren't helping. I literally said to back off and you didn't do that. You have your boys being your mouthpiece, dragging me over here. Let me state what you told me when we met. So that you can move on. So…"

"So what?"

Fitz's eyebrow lifted. The ache of potential rejection forbade her from answering. All she could do was closed her mouth, and hope he would catch her drift.

"So that we can be together?"

Nodding while fighting back tears, she took in his words. The correct answer. With true sincerity. The string of words she had been wanting to hit her ears since they met in Camp David, or Italy, or during some mundane phone call they had weeks ago.

"Yes."

Fitz took a moment to wait for her to return his gaze. Taking in her beauty and rare vulnerability, he asked her to listen. "I apologize for bringing you into this. But I made a promise that we would be able to do whatever we want when this is over. We can do this."

"Together?"

Her eyes blinked several times, hoping the moisture collecting on her lashes would dissipate. "Sure. I have to go now. Hal said a few minutes and I intend to hold up his end of this deal."

Fitz tried to keep her from leaving, by taking her hand before it was out of reach, "Don't run off like you usually do when you feel like you're out of options."

Letting out a haughty laugh, she reminded, "You must have forgotten. I never run out. Of options, you know. I just have to work harder to find them."

The snort coming from Fitz, seeing him look comfortable, actually being at ease, was delightfully attractive. Sighing as she laughed, she massaged his hand.

"What are we going to do, my love?"

Olivia quietly replied, "You need to find someone else." She studied Fitz's confused expression, then decided to clarify. "A woman who can play the part, create a diversion."

"Why? I don't want anyone else."

"I didn't say you had to want her, you just need to have a placeholder. Someone who can do well by your side, for a few weeks, or a month. It removes me from the equation. So we have time to narrate this correctly, then, I can debut my narrative. I have a choice too, you know."

Fitz squeezed her, kissing her neck. "Okay. Wait...I don't have to kiss her, will I?"

Olivia slowly grinned. "No."

"Good, 'cause I only want to kiss you."

He got extremely close, nose rubbing Olivia's. Her breathing hitched as her eyes snapped shut. Everything inside of her wanted more, but she knew the consequences would be long-lasting. The double standard. Being the other woman, the emotional whore, with others ready to label her as such. She knew how this worked. The stain that would never fade. But there were ways around all of this.

If only he would just cooperate, get this shit done, and settle this divorce.

"Look at me."

It hurt. How could someone be incredibly sincere and have a touch and expression so powerful?

"Look at me. Please," he whispered, tracing her chin with his fingers.

Olivia's lips parted, slowly swallowing, holding on to some imaginary stubborn resolve, while her eyes remained on everywhere but him.

The tension. Being flush. Her core ripening. Wanting him to sit her down on the couch, the floor, or against the wall, and just- have his way with her. She was always being tempted, to cross the line. Show more. Be more. But that wasn't going to fare well, if she wanted her lust to overtake the situation. Especially with what she just stated to him, about keeping things separate. Away from the public eye.

"I love you."

"Hmm," she ached, as his hands roamed to squeeze her ass. "More, Fitz."

"Mmm, I like that. Remember when you didn't want to say my name. Just Mr. President?"

Olivia shoved her hips into him. "I'm about to burst and you're reminiscing about what I call you?"

"Come with me."

"Fitz. But Mellie..."

"Liv," he lowly demanded, "She went back to Blair House. Just trust me. It's just us."

As so she did, allowing her body to relax.

"Do you know how badly I want this, how much I want you, Olivia? It's killing me."

His voice was breaking her down, in the best of ways. She licked her lips, trying to restrain, but still showing him the urges she was experiencing.

"You...you came the right time." His hands lifting her shirt.

While she began to moan at his soft touch, she sighed, "What if?"

"What if what, sweet baby?" He taunted, ghosting his lips on her skin.

"Will this actually work? While everyone is looking at us?"

Olivia moved her ponytail to the side to give his access. "Fuck them all," he enthusiastically replied, "I only want you. I need you."

Just like her work, it would only take her ten seconds to figure out what to do next. She looked into his eyes, then focused on his lips, back to his eyes, but still craving his mouth. Yearning everything about him. Fuck it, she was going to take another risk. Her hands cupped his face as she lunged for his lips. Her hands fumbling to get rid of his clothes, removing his shirt and tugging at his pants. Hungry for every part of him, Olivia's hips bucked while Fitz lifted her towards his bed, spreading her thighs open, standing in between them. His thick fingers digging into her hip bones.

"Fitz..."

"Tell me what you want. I'll do whatever. Or we don't have to do anything."

"Do it," she mumbled, voice extra raspy, "I don't care anymore."

And in that moment, she was being truthful. She couldn't hold it in or try to keep her urges dormant. With his help, she wiggled her pants down, showing off her lacy panties that covered just enough. Fitz licked his lips, whispering a deliciously dirty phrase that made her wet. As he knelt down, Olivia released a heavy and shaky breath, while his fingers pushed the fabric away, gently touching her, using his mouth to please, giving what she had been waiting for. The President of the United States - Her Fitz - was finger fucking her, and she didn't give a damn. Waiting was a grand gesture, a noble thing supposedly, but it was time. She needed more and she was receiving what she needed.


	12. Chapter 12

How was he able to do this? 

When did Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III learn how to eat out a woman so well? When did he have time — in between traveling, legislating, campaigning, or being the leader of the free world — to learn how to beautifully unravel a woman's sensitive core. Specifically Olivia's. How was he able to do all of this, given his rusty experience in the recent past? Had he been noticing the effect he had on her when he touched her?

Being the logical one, Olivia was trying to ponder this while squirming against the bed. If it was anyone else, she wouldn’t have cared. But with each careful maneuver that brought her closer to the edge, she relinquished mental control. How did she get so lucky? 

“Fitz…”

Everything was going so quickly. Her legs trembled as the man continued to explore, using his hands to enhance the sensations she was feeling. Touching her, worshipping her. Between generous licks and sucks, along with soft kisses, he’d mumble something that make her heart flutter.

“I love you.”

"Fitz..."

“You’re so beautiful.”

His words sounded like melted chocolate, and his touch was exquisite and smooth.

"Honey,” she groaned, overwhelmed physically and emotionally.

“Yes, sweet baby?”

“I need you to—“ 

The phone rang.

Olivia started to lift herself but Fitz nudged her to lie back down. Feeling his thumb on her swollen clit, she attempted to focus back on what he was doing, to get back in the mood. 

But the phone started to ring again. The grip on his soft curls loosened even though his mouth latched onto her lower lips, with his tongue swirling. The more it rang, the more intense Fitz became. Hands splayed on her skin, continuing to seduce her, and convince her that it was only them. Nothing else would matter. 

He quickly blurted, “Ignore it.”

“What if it’s work?”

She gasped when Fitz rose to pounce towards her; he was in her face, but he didn’t hesitate to answer. “But I  _ am _ working.”

Then he returned to his work as Olivia covered her mouth, giggling.  Just as she was trying to focus, to reach her high. Her first orgasm because of him, their favorite ambient sound returned.

Olivia shook her head, knowing that he would be pissed. Softly, she commented, “You should probably get this.”

“Motherfuck!” 

Fitz slammed his hand against the mattress. When he sat up, Olivia saw her handiwork — hair tousled, his mouth marked with her arousal. Reaching to grab the receiver and pressing the speaker button, he growled, “Yes?”

“Sorry to interrupt you, Sir, but Rob is on the line for you.”

Olivia slowly pulled herself together, eyeing the layers of clothes she took off. Fitz took her hand, bringing her close. It appeared that he didn’t want any of this to end. 

“Don’t go,” he whispered, before switching to a tone that resembled professional and flat-out annoyed. “What is it, Rob?” 

“Have you seen Olivia?” 

“What?”

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with her and she has not answered. I need to get a hold of her immediately.”

Olivia could feel her heart plummet, but remained still.

“What is going on?”

“The outlets are asking for a statement to this afternoon’s appearance.  Folks are speculating that you and the First Lady are only together for show. We want to make sure the verbiage is on track.” 

Fitz covered his face and sighed.  “Have you called her office?”

“We have used all the numbers she has given us. No one knows where she is. You were our last hope.” 

Once again, this was fucking everything up. She let her emotions and raw lust, a need to receive attention, to cloud her vision. Not that it was wrong, just the wrong time. Now she’ll have to come up with a solution.

Rob shortened the awkward silence. “Alright, well, if you hear from her, please call me, Mr. President.” 

Fitz agreed, slammed the phone down, glanced over at Olivia, fully clothed. He sighed.   “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

“Find the woman.”

“What?”

Slipping on her shoes, while attempting to hide her guilt, Olivia commanded, “Have Cyrus or Rob send me a list of names, so we can vet them.”

Fits stood defeated — only in slacks, with a peek of his black boxers briefs.  His pitiful looks were not going to distract her, especially with being nearly caught again.

How much longer until someone would “accidentally” open the door? Be in the right place at the wrong time? Find them in a truly compromising position.  Slipping because a potential dick appointment and she didn’t even get to experience it at all. It was probably for the best. The universe knew she couldn’t handle this level of intimacy. 

“Don’t give me that look. Twenty-four hours. You only call me when you find her. Or when she signs. Nothing else.”

They faced each other, toe-to-toe. She didn't say anything more and he didn't try to interfere. 

And then, she pivoted away.   No goodbye kiss, no eyelashes to bat. Nothing. 

Olivia marched to the service elevator, and out the side door. Dragging her fingers through her hair, she was able to escape the presidential grounds. Finally, she could let her guard down. Embarrassed was an understatement. Yanking, the lanyard off her purse, then checking her phone. Thirty missed calls. Calling the office was a must. 

“Liv, where the fuck have you been? Our lines have been busy all evening. Do you know how bad we look?”

Stephen never yelled at her. Ever. But hearing his harsh greeting let her know that her actions in private were already taking a toll on the group. And they had no clue what was going on. 

“I haven’t been feeling good.”

Suddenly, he changed his tone and apologized. "Right. I know it has been a rough few days for you. I don’t want to hold you long, but we need you.”

“How soon? I need to get freshened up,” Olivia asked, quietly approaching her car. “I need to change. Just in case someone else calls and i need to rush to the next place.”

“As soon as you can.”

“Okay.”

Driving in silence, she contemplated the next step. It didn't take long for her to mentally repent and do her best to get moving.  Olivia made it to her apartment in record time, pulling off the clothes that smelled like him, dumping them into the hamper. A shower would do her body and soul good. The hot water on her skin, sobering her up from this fog. Clearing her mind.

It was time to look the part. Setting her hair back into a tight and neat ponytail. A blouse and slacks. Sensible pair of three-inch black heels. 

Back to the formidable Olivia C. Pope, fixer of messy situations. Everything could be worked on, unless it was a problem of her own. 

* * *

 

Everyone’s car was in the lot, unfortunately. When she arrived, the team was in the conference room, studying notes, typing away. 

“Sorry, everyone, for keeping you waiting," she announced, setting her purse down on the table. "Update me.” 

“All of the outlets have been asking for a current statement from the White House. About the announcement. What do you want us to say?”

Olivia immediately gave her spin - "The First Couple is dedicated to make their mark on the country is a positive way. Honoring their late son, Fitzgerald the IV, is very important to them. With this initiative, all children can gain access to education that lead them to successful lives and careers."

When she finished, she looked for everyone's response. Slow nods from Huck and Harrison. Stephen had finished transcribing. Quinn was ecstatic; her mentor had seamlessly resolved an issue. Abby remained stoic, but approved. 

"Okay, let's send it over. Hopefully they'll give us a rest for a few." 

After a few minutes, everyone ventured off to their offices or their next duties. Abby remained in the conference room. Olivia turned away, but could sense the judgment on her skin. Snatching a few folders, she tried to read the notes. Looking busy and hoping that her best friend would keep it scooting.

But she didn't.

Lifting her head, she waited for Abby to come out with it.

"This isn't like you."

"What?"

Abby repeated sharply, placing her hands on her hips. "You don't do this. Never at work? Missing calls? Giving bullshit answers. You're being sidetracked."

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Olivia."

The runaround was obnoxious. Raising her voice, she demanded, "How about you clarify, Abby! I am here."

"Olivia Pope. You are physically here but you are not present. You're not with us. Just stop. Get your shit together."

"Excuse me?"

"You. The President."

Olivia snarled, glaring at Abby. "What are you talking about?"

"He's the X factor. He's the distraction. He's the reason why you are not on your A game."

"You are out of line," she pointed, teeth gritted.

Abby let out a laugh, "See? It's right there. I tried to look away but it's too obvious, Liv."

She wanted to lie, shout out accusations of reading into things. Wanting to reach out and give her a piece of her mind. Abby was usually always right when it came to analyzing Olivia's body language.

But her mouth remained shut because there was nothing to say.

The phone buzzed, interrupting the staredown. The wrong one.

“What is that?”

Olivia rolled her eyes, mumbling, “The burner the White House gave me.”

“What? Why?”

“I guess since it’s the First Couple’s personal life, they don’t want to get bugged. Cyrus has one as well.” 

Abby didn’t move from her interrogating stance. “We are only going to follow whatever your example as a leader. If your work is sloppy, you can’t expect us to miraculously change things around. Stop making excuses and lead, dammit!” 

Olivia watched her friend and employee storm off. Her wake caused the door to slam.

* * *

He called five times.

The second time around, Olivia put the phone on silent. She could have turned it off, but that would have caused an emergency. 

Using the alone time, she let her mind narrow in on what needed to be done. Ideas were flowing. How to make this all work. Revising her plan.

How she was going to make Mellie sign those papers? How was this transition going to happen smoothly, without another hurricane brewing? That didn't involve her. There had to be a way and she was going to help Fitz to do this. That meant answering his call, unfortunately. 

The screen brightened, catching her eye. Olivia grabbed the burner, pushing the call through. 

“What is it?”

“Hi.”

His voice was soft and low, in comparison to her cold greeting.

“Did you find someone? I need a name.” 

“No.”

The lack of courtesy on his part. To even admit that he had not even tried to follow Olivia's counsel. It was blowing her mind. How could a client be so, willingly rebellious? 

"Goodbye, Mr. President.”

“Olivia.”

She had never heard him say her name that way before. It was stern, commanding, bold, and downright sexy.

“I didn’t want to end our night on a bad foot. Please, don't hang up on me.” 

“Don’t.” 

“What’s wrong? This doesn’t seem like you.”

“I have work to do," she replied, keeping her resolve. 

“You always have work to do.” 

Her voice lowered to a whisper. She didn't want the others to hear. “Please.” 

“Livvie.” 

The desperation in his voice made her replay everything. The tense introduction. Meetings with Mellie. The two trips. The photos. The press conference. Hearing him talk in the hallway.

“I’m not a rebound.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Olivia took a deep breath. She had follow through and use her own advice.  “I don’t want you to see me as a quick fix replacement for Mellie.” 

“Where is this coming from?” 

“I’m not a placeholder to your endgame, Fitz.” 

And then he paused. “Wait,” he gathered, “were you nearby when I was talking to her? After the press conference?"

Olivia swallowed. “It was hard  _ not _ to hear you.”

“Livvie, I don’t see you as a rebound.”

“Well, I feel like it sometimes. Sneaking off, can’t even talk to you in public. A burner? Keeping quiet so no one knows.”

“Yes, you can! You can do whatever you want. You've been the one acting so discreet.”

Olivia scoffed, throwing her free hand in the air.  “No, I cannot. My career will tank. No one is going to see me as reputable. They will cut me off. I cannot handle that.”

Quickly, Fitz answered. “I’ll support you.”

“By using government money? Yeah, that will go over so well during your numerous congressional hearings.”

“That’s enough. Will you just stop?”

Olivia’s voice deepened as she rattled off to him, “No. You don’t tell me what to do. I tell you. You hired me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. You are at the mercy of what I say. But you have choices. If you don't do what I say, it could ruin you. But if you actually try to act on my guidance, it would let you leave this White House, still being a honorable man. Now what is your choice?”

Her heart was beating fast. What kind of power did she wield? Telling the President of the United States what his options were. To not shrink, but boldly confront him. It was for his benefit. 

Fitz did not answer, so she did it for him. 

“Find her, or I will find her for you. The longer you wait, the longer we don’t get to be.”

* * *

Right after she hung up with Fitz, the office line rang. 

Harrison called out, "Liv, it's for you."

Olivia answered. The voice sounded familiar but still unusual. 

“Olivia?” 

“Yes?”

“This is Jake Ballard.”

Just the name alone was enough to slam the receiver back down, but Olivia didn't want to add more fuel.  “Ah, yes. How are you?” 

“Better now that I have you on the line. You're tough to get a hold of."

Olivia chuckled, "Yes. It's been a busy day. You're quite persistent."

“So," Jake started, "Speaking of today. Was that the fake ass press conference the story you promised me?”

“It was not fake,” she grinned, crossing her leg over the other. 

There was some arm twisting on Mellie Grant's part, but with the right verbiage, the idea of an educational foundation was well-received. It would make am impact on the Administration. Olivia added,  “It was a wonderful event that you and the press corps was able to observe. The First Family is dedicated to education of the nation's children, and was able to honor their late son."

Jake sucked his teeth. “Not exactly what I was looking for. I'm sure there is more behind this.”

“That is all I can give. You would have to ask Robert Keller, communications director. I'm sure you have crossed paths.” 

“Cut the bullshit, Liv. Can I call you that. Liv?"

His pretentious tone was aggravating and they were not a place where pet names could be casually passed around like a plate at dinnertime. "No, actually, you may not," she replied firmly. "Olivia works just well for you."

Jake rushed, "Ok, fine. I've heard, _Olivia_ , of a rumor. There is another woman involved. Besides Amanda Tanner."

“Oh? Through whom?” 

“A reliable source.” 

Olivia fiddled with the pen, thankful to only be on the phone, and not a Skype call.  “Okay. How reliable?” 

"I trust my source."

"Then what is it?"

Jake calmly explained, "The President was seen at a small boutique in France a few months ago. My source informed me a purchase was made. A ring. Antique and one-of-a-kind.  There is one problem, Olivia. The few times we’ve seen the First Lady since the separation announcement, there have been no additional jewelry on her fingers, except for her wedding band. Care to comment?” 

As he talked, Olivia's eyes lowered towards it. The one tangible piece that connected her to the President of the United States. A small treasure that was becoming an eyesore.

“I was not with the President during that time.” 

Jake interjected, sounding more irritated as time went on. "But you were on that trip, Olivia. It has become obvious that you two are more than acquaintances. Did he mention it to you, since you officially are on task to help him and the First Lady with optics? A beautiful ring would most certainly create the buzz they want.” 

Olivia squashed his hypothetical scenario. “I was only present to help with his statements. You too were in Europe, as well the other handpicked journalists to accompany the tour. I’m surprised you didn’t follow along during his excursions. That would have been a big break for you, no? Since that's what you're here for. Come ups. A way to make it to the front room in the Press Room?"

The silence was telling. 

A smirk crossed her mouth as she was ready to finish this conversation. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Ballard? In the future, please keep your calls to matters that actually important, instead of looking for stale breadcrumbs to further your career.”

She must have struck a nerve; the harsh _ click _ was a decent response. A haughty laugh followed as she returned to her laptop. Emails were piling up. If there was an extra day in the week to concentrate on all the projects she had Pre-Fitz, she would feel better.

"Is there anything you need before we head out?"

Harrison was standing at the door. Olivia stood, asking to get the whole team. When they appeared, she gave their marching orders. "When you all return in the morning. I need all hands on deck. We need to know what the First Lady has been doing since she moved to Blair House, and shortly prior. Let's see if we can get access to the Amanda Tanner file. As well as finding dirt on Jacob Ballard, of the Press Corps."

The group looked at each other. Quinn asked, "Are they all working together? Did something come up?"

"I just got off the phone with him. He seems a little too close to the fire. I'm most suspicious of him right now. If he doesn't watch it..."

Abby's eyes lit up, "Burn, baby, burn!"

Everyone laughed. Olivia insisted that they all pack up so they could get at least, six hours of sleep. 

As they left the office, heading towards the elevator, Olivia was still thinking about the phone call. It was a wake up call. There was another layer to this assignment. More clues. A new issue that needed to be dealt with. If Jake Ballard was sniffing around for information, then surely others were too, right behind him. It seemed like every time she fixed or smoothed over one problem, another weed would pop up, which meant extra work. 

Olivia was hoping for some kind of relief, because the optics were becoming less favorable. 

 


	13. Chapter 13

The drive home was excruciating. Without zoning out, she spent the commute worrying. Then, while trying to clear her thoughts in the shower, Olivia was only thinking about what to relay to the team in the morning. As much as she loved her bed and the precious time to actually sleep and not have have nose deep in documents, Olivia spent hours lying awake. She couldn't shake off the rapid cycles of ideas and angles moving incessantly in her mind.

Wine was usually a quick fix, while munching on lightly stalted popcorn, or what she considered junk food, extra crispy fried chicken like her grandmother used to make — that could turn off any work crap that kept her busy. But as the clock turned to 3:39am, she knew this was ridiculous. She had a busy day ahead; three back-to-back meetings with long-standing clients, and an introduction to a potential employee. The time wasting on  _him_  was not on her agenda. But alas, all her thoughts led to him. 

After the intense conversations with Fitz, Abby’s truthful admonishing, and the unpleasant phone call with Jake Ballard, the pressure to fix this major problem was on. 

Olivia fluffed her pillow, finally getting comfortable, and as soon as she closed her eyes, Olivia shot up in bed. A mini epiphany.

The best option could be to to lay low.

And that was what she did.

* * *

 

To their surprise, when the OPA team returned to the office, they were given crystal clear instructions: to look for every piece of information that would connect Amanda Tanner, Jake Ballard, and everyone in between to Fitzgerald and Melody Grant. Olivia watched her people start to follow through. There was no more room for error. She needed to know who was behind the pap photos that could trace the President back to her, outside of work. This included the assistance of Huck, to find and install a new security system at her apartment and the office. 

While taking a step back to rework everything, Olivia called Harrison and Abby to her office, asking them to take her place in future White House meetings and correspondence. It would be a great opportunity to work in this realm and Cyrus didn’t think much of it — he assumed if she employed them, they would be equally as tough. Thankfully, they took the "promotion" with gratitude,  without giving her a crucial side eye. 

Two weeks had passed and President Fitzgerald Grant III was not thrilled.  Olivia received daily reports and would keep a stone cold face. It was for the best and honestly, she needed time away to refocus on herself and remember what her role was in the community. The shift gave her more time to take on new clients and force her to ignore his calls and only communicate through her people, Rob, and Cyrus.

“Liv, he is truly losing his patience.”

Meeting each other in the parking lot, Harrison and Olivia briefly discussed about the happenings at 1600 Penn. She calmly announced, while pressing the elevator button, “Not our problem. Keep pushing through.”

“Liv.”

Sharply turning to her friend and cohort, Olivia stated, “I don’t care.”

Harrison stared at the ceiling. In a low voice, he turned to her and explained, “I’m serious. This could bite us in the ass. Anything we give him, he finds a way to cancel it. Lillian or whoever we selected. They didn’t hit it off at all. The photo opp we suggested? He didn’t come. He is being extremely stubborn. And so are you. He doesn’t budge when Abby and…”

“You need to sit him down and remind him of his options with OPA. If he doesn’t want it, he can find another counsel. Then, he'll have to start from step one, and it will take longer for him to try to move past his issue. But it's in his best interest to follow through. Harrison, make sure to show him and Cyrus the revised proposal.”

Chocolate eyes focused, Olivia's correction was sharp and to the point.

“But—“

“End of discussion.”

* * *

 

He told her three months. It was now day 95. Yes, she was keeping track. Time is money and she was wasting both. That fateful day when he ran after her, to apologize and woo her to work with him, was she even thinking clearly? If he was any other client, the line would have been drawn and she wouldn't waver in her decisions. Now, with Fitz, she was second guessing every move.  How could something so particular be extremely messy?

Olivia Pope was known as a gladiator, ready to attack and conquer, no questions asked. She kept attempting to end this; being able to cut the loose strings while still working closely with him. But her heart was leading her somewhere else.

“Good morning,” Olivia announced, entering the office, marching down the hallway towards the conference room. Those who were present, followed.  “Where are we?”

Abby opened her binder and reported, “It’s been confirmed. Mellie Grant has been flying back and forth to California.”

“Why?”

“Getting her things in order,” Quinn speculated. "She knows her time as First Lady is ending."

Olivia took her sweet time to respond. Not because she was happy to hear about this. 

"It hasn’t been on the radar, but I have my leads,” Huck added. “I think she’s trying to go rogue.”

Giving a satisfied nod, Olivia agreed.  “We have got to win this thing. The Grants have been letting this drag for too long. She has to sign before the media and public realize what’s been going on. They'll know for certain that they are hiding more. We need to know why this is stalling. And while we're at it, I still need more names. Someone has to be worthy to to be on the President’s arm during this quick separation period. Classy, single career women. Closer to his age. Looking the exact opposite of Amanda Turner.”

Quinn passed along a roster to Olivia. “I have ten ladies who look promising.”

Huck replied, “I have a name.”

“A name for what?”

“I know who is behind the photos.”

Olivia pressed her hands on the table, leaning forward, and staring down her top IT guy. “Spill.”

“Billy Chambers.”

“Who?”

"I know that name."

“The fuck is that,” Abby exclaimed.

Ears perked, narrowing her eyes, Olivia’s lip curled. “Wait. What’s his name again?”

They waited for Huck to pull up the file. 

“Billy Chambers, the campaign manager, turned chief of staff to Vice President Langston,” Huck stated plainly, but in this rapid monotone voice. “He has been quiet recently, but during the campaign, became somewhat bitter by their trajectory. He believed Sally Langston were screwed by President Grant's agenda. He thought if the President’s skeletons and panache for beautiful women were exposed, his term as President, would take a turn for the worst. Which, could promote Langston.”

Olivia rushed to the whiteboard, writing down pointers, using keywords, and connecting dots. “So you’re telling me he has been under our noses, scheming, and dragging everyone in the mud? How blind could I be…”

“But now we know,” Harrison interjected.

It wasn’t lost on her that her good friend, her best gladiator was ready to deflect because it could have been so obvious how and why she was distracted. “Okay, Huck," she instructed, "Please give me all of this so I can create a neat document so I can present to Cyrus tomorrow.”

Writing everything down, Abby inquired, “What would you like us to do while you’re there?”

Olivia laughed, already making her way out the door to her office. “Oh, y’all are joining me."

* * *

 

The work day was productive; the team had enough to share with the President. During a break, Olivia met up with Cyrus, an espresso in hand, as a peace offering. Their only interactions were through the third party of Abby or Harrison, making it very awkward.

They agreed to one of the benches, a block away from the epicenter of their world,  which made sense. Far enough from the President's eyes and ears, but close enough to bolt back if anything came up. 

“Hello, stranger.”

“Good afternoon to you," she smiled handing the caffeine to him.

Letting out a chuckle, Cyrus said, “Your absence has been felt.”

Taking a sip, Olivia sat down, shrugging. “I don't know why. We have to think about the big picture here. I’m not the only person who can help him out. Abby and Harrison are doing a fine job.”

“He’s going to Chicago and Wisconsin." Cyrus interrupting, looking out into the distance. 

“Perfect. He should be staying busy, while the rest of us are doing his dirty work.”

“He wants you to come.”

Olivia’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “Oh. Yeah. That’s not going to happen."

"Why not? You went to Europe? Why not take a 2 hour flight and be part of the team?"

"Absolutely. Not. I have to be here."

"Well, you're not."

"What?"

Olivia watched Cyrus' index finger point to the White House. "You're supposed to be back there."

"Oh, stop it."

“Liv!”  Cyrus slapped his hand on his head, like he was about to have a full out tantrum. “This is why we brought you on. He acts differently when you’re around. When you’re there, he isn’t so…childish!”

“I was hired to keep the optics right and keep as much of their personal life underwraps, not to be the President’s babysitter.”

“He is the most precious individual. Your job is to pacify him, lead him in the right direction. You _are_ the babysitter,” Cyrus boldly announced. “The matronly being. The comforter. The controller. And since you’re not there, he is going wild. Immensely rebellious.  And why isn’t he able to contact you? He told me he gave you a special number.”

Olivia’s irises grew in terror. She had no clue Cyrus knew about anything. At least he didn’t say _phone_.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Not busy enough to see me.”

Olivia snapped, “I’ve known you longer, so you take precedence.”

That was a bold-faced lie; Cyrus narrowed his look at her, which was horrifying. Olivia was feeling the same level of guilt when receiving correction from a parent or another trusted figure in life.  “Uh huh. I know that's not true because it took us two weeks to see each other face to face. Don't know why, but Fitzgerald Grant needs you. I’m telling you, Liv. He’s different when you’re there. It’s like this aura… this…”

“Light,” she interjected in a small voice, looking away.

Cyrus agreed as he raised his cup. “That’s it. If you were a politician, I’d slap your name on the ticket ASAP. You two work so well together. This spark you have. It could bring some change in this town.”

Olivia reacted by drinking more of her chai tea latte. He didn't know everything that was going on; he wasn't letting on, which relieved and scared her. What would happen when, not if, he found out? That was a bridge she was not reading to cross. 

“This is not the reason why I wanted to meet with you. I have new information for you. I want you to let him know that the whole group needs to reconvene when he returns.”

She was ready to pull the folder out of her purse, but Cyrus didn't want any of it. 

“You need to tell him.”

“Excuse me?”

The staredown was brief. Cyrus rose before looking back at Olivia. “You are going to be the one to decline his invitation. One you do that, I will set up the meeting. Have a great day.”

She was the one to make the rules and give ultimatums, not be the person to receive them. But she needed a path to get her news to the Oval. This could be a huge break in this case, and she needed to move this along.

Taking out her cell phone, Olivia called. She needed to keep this short and sweet.  

“Hello, Lauren? Yes, this is Olivia Pope. No, no. Just leaving a message. I wanted to decline the invitation to the midwestern trip. No. There is no reason to give at this time, Thank you. Take care.”

* * *

 

Two television screens were set up in Olivia’s office. From first glance, her space looked like a She needed to have access to all the news stations in the area, plus national, as well as a phone line that could handle all of the requests from the press. If she was supposed to be fixing people, it was vital to be as close to the pulse. The news was her friend and her archenemy. But if she played her cards right, usually, Olivia could work the media to her advantage.

The main screen was set to the local affiliate, softly playing as she finished her work for the day.

_President Grant has touched down in Chicago and will be speaking at McCormick Place, as part of a week-long convention with youth leaders from area high schoolers. His press secretary has stated the President will also take in the city's sights. With this surge of public appearances, could this be the start of a blossoming re-election campaign? Time will only tell._

Olivia’s heart began to race; the sight of him made her so weak. So tall and handsome. Rocking his Air Force One jacket, with dark grey slacks. That smile that could charm the toughest characters and make every woman wet with desire. The wind blowing through his curly mane. Every detail about him was setting her into a trance. It was only two weeks but God, she missed him so much. This was her doing, making herself unavailable to the man who felt so passionately about her. Even loved her. What the hell was that all about? He told her, in the middle of performing oral acts in his private quarters, that he loved her. How vulnerable could a person be? Maybe that was why she was eager to detach. Everything was going too fast. Fitz didn’t just feel strongly for her, he loved her…  

“He’s a winner.”

Olivia jolted in her seat, turning around; Harrison was leaning against the doorframe. Composing herself, she replied, “Sure. Did I make the wrong choice?”

Harrison rubbed his chin, taking a few steps forward.  “With this case? No. You’re trusting your gut, Liv. ”

“I wasn’t expecting this to be so... all-encompassing.”

The tension collecting in the middle of her eyes. Being so committed, just to make sure he was happy. That was a draining process for her.

“You’re doing great. We’re almost there. I can feel lit. Keep trusting your gut.”

“Thanks, Harrison,” Olivia smiled.

It took about twenty minutes to shut everything down, and do a walkover before leaving the office. Since the photo situation, Olivia was more diligent to not stay too late. While Harrison waited by the door, she tidied her desk, changed from her four-inch power heels to Tory Burch flats, and checked her bottom drawer.

The burner was living behind a box in this drawer. Olivia turned it on to find a surprising and alarming notification. Sixty-three voice and text messages. The nerve. To believe ignoring him was easy, was a lie. Maybe she was extra careful but most certainly, he never called her house phone, or tried the work cell. The persistent President was still respectful of her boundaries.

She felt a major sting in her chest each time she drove by 1600 Pennsylvania, whenever his name was mentioned, or seeing the ring on her dresser. That was tough to leave that piece of beautiful jewelry behind. If he knew she wasn’t wearing it, it would crush him. Once everything blew over, she would put it back on. It was too dangerous, especially with people like Ballard knowing where the ring came from. 

Quickly deleting the majority of the messages, without even looking at what they said, Olivia turned the phone back off, and met with Harrison to leave for the evening.

Another painful day without him. 

* * *

 

“Oh my God, what do you need?”

“Well, good morning to you.”

Jake Ballard had officially become the second-least person Olivia wanted to cross paths with on a given day. To her dismay, he intercepted her route to the scheduled briefing at the Oval Office. The first day back in several weeks and he was the first significant person she saw. 

“A reliable source got in touch with me, with an email of pictures that feature you. Did you know about this?”

“Excuse me?”

Jake pulled out a slip of paper. “I don’t know what this is all about. Is someone out to get you? Or are you being put in a negative situation? Does this mean you have a relationship that crosses professional with President Fitzgerald Grant?”

This was not the time and place for this conversation to happen. Her expertise kept her from revealing her big secret. Olivia took a half step closer to Jake, lowering her voice. “Excuse me, Mr. Ballard? I have been hired by the White House to control the narrative regarding the First Couple. When you work with such important and influential people, everything you do is scruntized. I do not know why pictures were taken of me, which invaded my privacy, something that you're now participating in.”

He smirked, which irritated her even more. "You avoided all of my questions. Like I said, the source, who is very credible, sent one to me. It’s my duty as a member of the Press to inform you.”

Shooting her eyes back towards this blurry photo, that didn't confirm anything. No sight of Fitz, or the motorcade, so Jake was fishing for straws. Olivia shook her head and asked, “Why are you telling me this? You couldn't have called me?"

"I thought it would be more effective if I shared in person."

Slowly tapping her heeled toe, and attempting to keep her cool, while greeting other Press members and White House staff as they walked by, she stated, “I'm going to be late with my meeting with the President and Chief of Staff, and once I finish that meeting, I can point you in the direction of Now will you excuse me?”

Jake stepped to the side, so she could make it down the hall in peace. A shiver went through her body as she walked pass the corner where Fitz and Mellie argued, which started the emotional snowball for her. As soon as she was out of sight, Olivia called Huck immediately. “I need you to dig into Jake Ballard’s accounts, and find out who in the living fuck is sending him pictures of me. I thought they were taken out of that pap’s hands.  And if it’s Billy Chambers, I will take them down.”

Finally reaching the Oval, Olivia found Lauren typing at her desk, smiling, while Abby and Harrison were waiting impatiently. “Good morning, Miss Pope.  The President is expecting you.”

“Thank you.”

Olivia whispered to the duo, “If you hear back from Huck, you handle it.”

The door opened.

“Miss Pope, Miss Whelan, and Mr. Wright, Sir.”

“Thank you, Lauren”, Fitz curtly replied, starting right at Olivia.  His gaze was passionate, angry, and of course, displayed hurt. Already feeling exposed, she turned to Cyrus. 

“Good morning, Mr. President.”

Cyrus and Rob were a little more friendly, but that wasn’t saying much.

“Cy tells me you have something to tell me," Fitz said, as he sat in his chair.

Harrison chose to begin, passing manila folders. "Mr. President, we were able to find new more information, regarding…”

Olivia sat quietly, keeping an eye on the President. Watching for anything he would do. 

“It appears that Mr. Chambers is behind the photographs and he is going to use the press as an outlet to expose the President. He's just been sitting on these photos."

Cyrus let out a mighty roar, “He what?”

“Our team was able to connect pieces of info, discreetly. Mr. Chambers does not approve the President’s decisions and how he is the complete opposite of what the party stands for. So, it would make sense for him to use pictures, rely on overheard conversations, the imminent dissolution of the First Couple’s marriage, or unusual visits with Ms. Pope, to create a stir. A way to push him out of the White House.”

“Why haven’t I heard about this before?”

Fitz stared at Rob, who was squirming in his chair. Then he looked at Olivia, with frustration, “Why wasn’t I notified? He’s been a threat this whole time and no one mentioned him.”

“We were told by Mr. Beene that we could discuss this new development once you returned from your midwestern trip.”

“That Ms. Pope did not attend.”

What a low blow. Olivia lowered her eyes, not willing to play a petty tit-for-tat with him, not in front of her team.

“What does Liv have to do with this,” Cyrus asked.

“If she had joined us, she could have given me a heads up before I shook hands with that son of a bitch. Knowing he was behind this. Now we're a week behind schedule.”

Harrison was quick to defend, “Sir, this only confirms that we need to get ahead of this and resolve your separation with the First Lady.”

“That’s not good enough!”

"Oh, come on, Sir!" Cyrus added. "The team we have is doing their best. With all due respect, you and the First Lady are the main players. We can only move when you move. Now you know, so let's do something, damnit."

Fitz rose to his desk. Everyone got quiet, because he had become all sorts of upset. 

Rob turned to Olivia, "We can move now. I'll contact Mr. Chambers' secretary to set up a meeting."

"That sounds fine." It was the first time she spoke in the whole meeting. Fitz scoffed.  

"Oh, so you're only choosing who you want to talk to? Okay."

Cyrus stared at his boss, then to Olivia, then back to him. "Am I missing something?"

Abby, Olivia, and Fitz spoke in tandem, "No!"

"Okay, then. Sir, we will make sure Chambers is removed."

The tension was so thick, a person would want to run out and take a smoke break, or have a heavy drink. 

"Also, Sir," Abby jumped in. "When the divorce papers get filed, we have drafted a timeline for you to complete. So we can set a better narrative for you. If you want to take a look at our potential suitors."

Being defiant, Fitz emphatically rejected her, "Fuck that."

Rob's eyes widened, while Abby gritted her teeth. Cyrus began to pace, like the worrywart the he was. Harrison glanced at Olivia, who was seething. Her people would not be disrespected on her watch.

"Stop this now," she declared, marching to the Resolute Desk. Everyone in the room became silent and in awe of how she was able to boldly approach the Leader of the Free World. "You will not sabotage this meeting because we are all here for you. Stop acting like a child and grow up."

“I need the floor with Miss Pope, please,” Fitz announced, sounding very presidential.

At once, everyone scurried away, leaving the two alone. Olivia was too mad to have this sexually charged staredown, and was already snatching her purse off the couch.  She did not want to be left alone with him. The whole meeting was a wash. 

“Liv. Hey.”

“NO.”

“You can’t do this.”

“It appears to be that you do not care. Where is your ire?”

“I am pissed.”

“No, you’re not. If you were, heads would roll.”

“Livvie.”

Olivia lifted her hand to silence him. “Don’t _Livvie_ me, Mr. President. I am only here because _Cyrus_ begged me to come back to clean this shit. Just let me do my job and do not make it so obvious that something else could be going on.”

Fitz frowned; “Okay…”

"Do you know how we could have been caught? Have you forgotten?"

“Why did you bring on Abby and Harrison? They don’t know me like you do.”

“It’s for your best.”

“I do not want anyone else. I just want you.”

Olivia raised her voice, “You can’t have me, Fitz! Look at where this has gotten us. This is a shitfest!” In a hurry, she began to moved in a circle.

“You're at it again.”

“What?”

Fitz twisted his lips, pointing out, “Pacing in circles. You do that. When something’s off. Wrong.”

She wanted to ignore him. Cuss him out. Be more difficult than necessary. “Hmm.”

“Why haven’t you called me?"

Olivia stopped, glaring at him, very confused. "What?"

"I have done everything in my power to not just drive to your apartment and have you in my arms," Fitz stated with agitation.

“So we can be photographed again?”

Fitz snapped his mouth shut, but rertorted, “Don’t do this.”

Their eyes met and somehow they were close again. It was difficult, when it could have been easy to forget everything and just be in the moment again.

Olivia walked to the window, finding some sense out of it, when she could feel him right behind her. She reminded without even turning around, “I have a list of women that you can pick from to be by your side for the next month.”

“I want you by my side," he whispered. 

Rolling her eyes, Olivia stated, “That is not possible, Mr. President.  As long as that stack of papers is not mutually signed. We aren’t a thing.”

Fitz sucked his teeth, "Oh, come on. You can't say my name anymore? Does that help you separate us what we have?"

"I'm compartmentalizing."

“There is only one person I love.”

“Okay.”

“I hope you know that.”

Olivia mumbled under her breath, creating more distance.

“I see you, Liv.”

“Of course you do. I’m right here.”

“No," Fitz corrected, gently getting her to face him. "You. I see you. Your soul. What people don’t see.”

"Fitz. Stop."

"What?" 

"Stop."

"No, before that," he mentioned softly, putting his hands on his hips. "What did you say?"

Olivia closed her eyes, feeling so defeated. "Your name."

“Kiss me.”

“Why?”

Fitz sweetly placed his hands on Olivia's shoulders, then finding their resting spot on her arms. “Because I would like you to. You know that you’re craving it. I see it in your eyes. How your breath hitches when I get ‘too close’ to you and we're not even close at all. How the hairs on your neck stand. How you bite your full bottom lip when I talk. How your grip on whatever you’re holding becomes stronger.” Fitz held her hand, grazing his thumb over her knuckles. “I know how you are and I’m sure that you are torturing yourself.”

The words he used to describe her current situation were spot on. Frustrating, and yet so accurate. She wanted to keep resisting, act like he was wrong about how she was feeling. But he knew. She knew that it was pointless.

Olivia licked her lips, rushing in towards his mouth. That final release when the buildup had become unbearable... that's how she felt when she kissed Fitz. It was like she could be herself again. She couldn't remember the last time their mouths were crushing against each other, opening up for more, breathing each other in. 

“FItz,” she moaned, as he sucked on her neck.

“I need you, Livvie.”

Hissing a “yesss…”, she tugged on his curls, becoming weaker with each kiss or playful bite. It was a miracle that their passion-fueled argument / kissing fest, was not interrupted. Then, Olivia came back to her senses. 

“Oh, oh. No. No. Fitz. I can’t take this anymore.”

She forcefully let go, wiping away a few tears. Fitz's eyes were wide with confusion, but he knew they had gone too far again. She knew he wanted to follow and comfort her, but was too hesitant to touch her again.

"Tell me what to do."

"I already have. You are hard of listening," she replied, slamming the folder down. "Professionally, I know what's best for you." 

"Liv?"

If only he would stop calling for her. Rebuilding those emotional walls, Olivia was already at the door, ready to walk out, when she looked at him one more time. "What?"

Fitz sighed and whispered, "I love you."

With a solemn nod, she said, "Me too. I love you too."

* * *

 

 _One week later_  

Fitz actually followed Olivia's instructions, selecting a woman by the name of Teresa, a nice professional from Virginia. At random times, they had been photographed together. Everything was cordial and Teresa was being paid well for her time. Harrison slipped a blurb to Jake Ballard, and others, so they could spread the "word", which was moving quickly.  This gave Olivia time to work on Mellie. They were meeting at the White House, in the East Wing.

“First Lady Grant.”

“Please, Mellie will do just fine.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Olivia accepted the invitation to sit down. 

"I see you and your team have began something in regards to Fitz," Mellie inquired, crossing her leg. 

"Yes."

Not amused, Mellie raised her eyebrow. "I see. What do you want?  Does it have to do with this paper in front of us?"  
  
"We need you to sign the agreement, so we can get the divorce process finalized."

Pressing her hand on her forehead, Mellie gathered her thoughts. “If I sign these papers, what’s in it for me?”

“A new life,” Olivia pushed the parchment towards her. 

Mellie lifted her pen, but then let it drop, startling Olivia. 

“Since we’ve started. I’ve noticed you side more with him. I thought you were helping the White House.”

Olivia kindly replied, “I am.”

“No. You’re helping him,” Mellie emphasized, letting her Southern drawl shine through. “Like I’m the enemy. You know he’s the philanderer. The playboy. He's the one who is damaged. He wants attention. He craves it. His parents didn’t give it to him, so he moved to me. You know we were matched like one of those blind dates. Then Teddy and his mother were taken. And when I couldn’t give enough, he went to that— that random girl. While we were on our way here. He tried to take his own life. After Teddy.”

Olivia could feel her heart plummet to the floor of her stomach. “Pardon?”

Mellie shook her head. “I tried all I could do. We all thought he was strong to take this on. All of this weight on his shoulders, his soul. But I found out, he didn’t think he could handle any of this. I was there through all of it. The sleepless nights, the pills that were supposed to help. Don't know why I woke up, I'm a heavy sleeper. But I found him in that bathroom, and I had to shake him so hard to bring him back. It was a nightmare. I deal with my own demons, you know? Losing someone so dear to me. Literally, a part of me. I had to deal with my grief as well as his. And I’m the one getting shunned.”

The confession was heart-wrenching. Pure sadness. Olivia was not privvy to any of this. He wanted to die? This man had so much going for him and he wanted it go away? And as much as Mellie conveyed such sorrow, Olivia had to keep doing her job.

“Who knows?”

Mellie took a breath. “Cyrus. His detail. I don’t know who else. We didn’t want this to get out because we had an image to protect. We needed him to win.”

Olivia took a moment to collect her own personal thoughts and emotions. It was the last thing she wanted to hear or know about this man she had feelings for. “Mellie. I am so sorry that you had to deal with this and keep this underwraps, when you were supposed to be allowed to grieve as freely as you want. I want you to be happy. Unfortunately, your happiness will not be the force that dictates how this country will be led for the next four years. He’s the one who has to stay.”

Her voice was soft but her words were razor sharp. Mellie flinched, probably assuming Liv would play along with the empathetic, "we need to support each other" narrative. But that did not happen and that made Mellie frustrated.  

"So he really wants to leave?"

Olivia clasped her hands together. "There's more for you out there. Being First Lady doesn't have to be your endgame."

"Actually, it was, Olivia. Now, I'm some broken, wornout pawn."

Mellie flicked her heels off, then walked to the other side of the room. Olivia knew this had to be difficult.

Then, Mellie screamed, “I hate him! He has ruined everything! And I let him. I chose to give up everything for him and look where I am? You know what. That's it."

Two of her details rushed in. 

"No, I'm fine, guys. You can go back."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mellie snatched the paper, stormed to her desk, taking her best pen, and scribbling her name on the worn paper, that she probably perused and studied hundreds of time.

"Here," she spoke in a very deep and breathy way. “Take this to him. Tell him it’s over. He may think he’s won but you tell him I want everything he has.”

Olivia kept a solemn face. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Once she closed the door, Olivia reached for her cell, sped dialed Cyrus.

“Cy,” she began, as her slow march got faster, moving like the winner and kickass queen she was. "It’s handled. Let me know when the President is available to talk. I would like to share the good news with him.”


End file.
